


Knots

by sadladybug



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Drama & Romance, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadladybug/pseuds/sadladybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like she tells Kaede: Lord Sesshomaru might not be predictable, but he's dependable. Any day now, he'll come back to the village and they can be together again. Right? A story about watching and waiting, almosts and should-haves, and what happens when the waiting is finally over. Sess/Older!Rin, other canon pairing cameos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

But still you are nowhere, still you are nowhere, nowhere in sight

Come out to meet me, run out to meet me

Come into the light

\- Neko Case, This Tornado Loves You

* * *

“Thanks for the lesson, Lady Kaede! I’ll see you tonight!”

A voice calls after Rin as she gathers her things. “Do not forget to bring in more firewood before ye retire for the night!”

Rin cringes. It’s her least favorite task; she always manages to get at least one splinter. “Yes, Lady Kaede. I know I’m behind on my chores, I promise I’ll catch up.”

Kaede appears from a side room as Rin heads for the door. She’s as steadfast and stoic as always, but the years have worn away at her and she has come to depend on Rin more than ever. When she thinks no one’s looking she rubs stiff joints or sways a little on her feet. Rin does her best to care for her, but sometimes she falls behind. Especially during the week of the new moon.

“And please start the laundry first thing tomorrow. Not all of us have an extensive wardrobe,” she grumbles.

Rin ignores the uncharacteristic jab and nods. “I will, first thing. Take care until I get back!”

The mat covering the door flaps shut behind her, but not before she sees the old woman sigh and shake her head. Rin frowns. Her natural impulse is to ask what’s wrong, but she squelches it. She doesn’t need to ask, she knows what Kaede is thinking. To bring it up would just invite the same tired looks and worried words. There’s no point in upsetting Kaede or herself.

Besides, Rin has somewhere to be. The thought of it alone brings a smile to her face.

Her feet want to skip away from the hut, but the hot water in the teapot she carries in one hand reminds her to keep her steps even. She hitches a large basket higher on one hip as she makes her way down the stairs under the torii gate and through the village. Spring has finally arrived, albeit unevenly, and the planting season is well underway. As she winds down the dirt road, villagers working in the fields wave and call to her in greeting. On other days they might try to stop her for a chat, but not today. It’s no secret where she’s headed and they know better than to try to distract her.

Today’s the day. It has to be.

The sounds of the village fade away as she enters the forest. Sunlight and birdsong filter through the thick foliage, and she is grateful for the shield that the trees provide from the crisp breezes. Though by now she has spent more years sleeping under a roof than the open sky, the forest is where she truly feels at home. On other days she might dally and stop to inspect the new sprouts and flowers appearing for the season, but today her pace is brisk. It isn’t long before Rin finds her favorite tree and sets to work.

The blanket from the basket snaps in her hands and she spreads it carefully over the knobby roots that protrude from the ground. One by one, she unwraps the pieces of a delicate tea set stored in scraps of soft silk. Excitement burns through her veins, making her hands tremble as she places the cups on saucers. On an extra plate she carefully arranges rice cakes and a small selection of fruit. At the bottom of the basket she finds a packet of tea leaves. This she sets next to the tea pot; it isn’t time to steep them yet. Finally, she runs a quick hand through her hair and adjusts her kimono so that the folds lay flat.

She is ready.

And now, she waits.

Fifteen minutes pass. She sings to herself to pass the time, but after a while the notes begin to sound hollow in the empty forest. She counts the different types of wildflowers she can see growing in the area, and then quizzes herself with their names and medicinal qualities. Another thirty minutes pass and she turns her attention to the hem of her kimono, checking for loose threads and smoothing out any wrinkles. When her stomach growls she treats herself to one of the rice cakes.

An hour passes. Two. She is still alone.

A shadow of doubt edges across her heart. She had been sure today was the day. She had been _sure_ of it.

She surveys her efforts and her heart snags. For the past six days it’s been exactly the same. The same dry tea leaves, the same quiet forest. The same empty spot next to her on the blanket. The only thing that’s changed is the length of her chore list and Kaede’s patience – in inverse proportions – as she spends her afternoons in the forest. Alone.

It isn’t like her to despair, but a quiet voice in the back of her head whispers that the scene is pitiful. Childish, even. What was she doing out here, anyway? She imagines the look Kaede will give her when she returns in defeat yet again and sighs.

Well, it didn’t have to be a total loss. She could at least have a cup of tea before packing up her basket for the day and making the long walk back to her home.

She reaches for the teapot, but the sides have gone cool. She hadn’t noticed that the clouds of steam had long since stopped billowing from the spout. With how long she had been waiting she should have been expecting it, but it hurts all the same. For some reason, this more than anything solidifies the disappointment in her heart.

A tea party for two, attended by one, featuring cold tea. Just perfect.

She shakes her head. She’s better than this. Her life has been full of hardships and surprises and challenges. But throughout it all, she had never lost her loyalty or her hope. Most of all, she is patient. She knows what it means to wait. She just needed to renew her faith and wait a little longer.

And if today was the day, she would be damned if she would serve cold tea.

The tea pot jangles on its handle as she sprints back to the village. A little water sloshes over the edges but the cold water can’t hurt her. By the time she reaches the hut she is breathless.

Kaede looks up from her mending. “Back so soon, Rin?”

“Only for a minute!” She hangs the kettle over the fire, willing it to boil. She has to hurry and return to the forest. “I just needed to reheat the water for the tea.”

The old woman gives her a kind, but knowing look. “It’s been four days since the new moon. Perhaps ye will have to wait until next month.”

She hates that Kaede’s words echo her own thoughts. Rin knows that Kaede loves her and wants what’s best for her, but right now she can’t bear to have her flimsy confidence shaken. She squares her shoulders. “Maybe. But it can’t hurt to have just one more afternoon, right? It’s still early. And I promise to work extra hard tomorrow to help you.”

“Inuyasha and Kagome will return from their trip soon; if that happens ye know –“

“I know,” she cuts her off with a smile. “But they aren’t back yet.” Her face falls. “And it’s already been three months since the last time.”

Kaede gives her a sad smile, and her voice is edged with a sharp sort of kindness, the kind that sounds sweet but cuts just the same. “Dependency can be dangerous, child. I do not want ye to be disappointed. Ye may just have to accept that he is not coming – “

_“He is!”_ She isn’t sure when she got to her feet, but to her horror she finds herself towering over the old woman, fists shaking at her sides. The silence stretches out and it is only the whistle of the teapot that brings the room back into focus. She takes it off of the fire and sets it on the ground. Bowing low at the waist, she musters up her most reverent voice. “Forgive me, Lady Kaede. I did not mean to yell. But you have to understand: he might not be predictable, but he _is_ dependable. Please have patience with me.”

With that she sweeps down to retrieve the teapot and is out the door before Kaede can protest.

She hurries back down the path toward the forest, the teapot in her hand radiating heat. The villagers wave to her again, and she can’t help but think that they, too, must think that she is a silly woman. She imagines the pitying looks they must give her when they think she isn’t looking. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she waves back.

But she can’t worry about that now. At the edge of the forest she picks up her pace, hoping that she hasn’t made a mistake in leaving, even for a short time. The thought that he might have come and gone in her absence makes her feel frantic, and her eyes scan the trees ahead for any signs of life. The distraction costs her when her foot catches on a stray tree root. She stumbles, arms automatically pinwheeling for balance. Though she manages to remain upright, the tea pot in her hands sways, sloshing the hot water and sending it splashing over the rim and onto her hand. A hiss escapes from between her teeth and she inspects her fingers, two of which are now an angry red. It isn’t so serious that they will blister, but the skin stings and swells.

The universe seems intent on testing her patience today, and it is dangerously close to winning. If she were still a child, she might have stomped her foot in frustration. Even now she is tempted. Instead she shakes her head and sticks her fingers in her mouth, vowing to watch her step from now on. She trudges forward, determined to have a cup of tea and enjoy the peace and quiet of the forest if it kills her.

She is still sucking on her burned fingers when she reaches the clearing, and her belongings are waiting for her right where she left them.

Plus something extra.

Her feet jerk to a halt and her fingers make a soft popping sound as they leave her mouth. A heartbeat of stunned silence passes before a grin invades her face, all the pains of the day entirely forgotten.

There he is, straight-backed and cross-legged, sitting on the blanket and dressed in the same red and white attire she is accustomed to. Despite obvious access to many rich and colorful fabrics, his clothing is always the same, and he is always armed and armored as though he is going to battle. His palms rest lightly on his knees and he is casually regarding the forest as though he’s been there for hours. Her heart sings as the familiar sight.

She _knew_ today was the day. She _knew it._

She quickens her pace from the edge of the clearing and waves an arm above her head. _“Lord Sesshomaru!”_

He rises from the blanket and stands to greet her, silver hair streaming behind him. Her feet almost stutter again when his gaze finds hers. Each time they meet, it is simultaneously like coming home to comfort and cheer and embarking on something new and exciting. Her heart doesn’t know whether to sigh in relief or skip in anticipation.

Though these days, her heart isn’t the only thing that responds to him.

He had always been impressive to behold; she was certain that anyone who laid eyes upon him would see him as a striking figure, looming larger than life. That’s certainly how she had seen him as a child. But she’s old enough now that when her breath catches in her throat upon seeing him that it’s not _just_ due to admiration.

She can’t pinpoint exactly when the shift occurred. The transition was so quiet and gradual that she hadn’t even noticed until one evening Kaede surprised her out of an unexpected blush-inducing daydream featuring a certain demon lord to tell her that she had been washing the same dish for five minutes with an odd look on her face. Five summers had passed since then; twelve since she had come to live in the village with Kaede as a child. In those years she found that her thoughts strayed to him more and more in his absence, and her memories are vivid and precise: she could picture with perfect clarity the colors of his obi or the thickness of the tassels that decorate his armor. But when he is here, in front of her, her memories do him no justice at all.

She comes to a halt an arm’s breadth away, grinning broadly. His face is impassive as he regards her, but there is a smile in his voice. “Rin.”

Just the sound of her name on his lips releases tension she didn’t even know she was carrying. “I’m so happy to see you, Lord Sesshomaru! I just knew you were coming today.”

His head tilts a fraction. “How?”

She shrugs. “I just felt it.” He nods sagely as if this is something he can understand; with his heightened senses she supposes maybe he _can_ , in his own way. She gestures at the blanket. “Please, have a seat.”

He settles back down in a graceful sweep of hair and fabric. She settles in across from him and arranges the teapot. From beside him he produces a rectangular package wrapped in crisp rice paper and tied with a familiar ribbon. “This is for you.”

Her heart squeezes as she accepts it. “Thank, you, my lord.” She doesn’t have to open it to know that he had brought her yet another exquisite piece of clothing. She gives him a shy smile. “You know, you don’t have to bring me something every time you visit. Spending time with you is enough.”

He frowns. “You are displeased with my gifts?”

“No! Not at all. I’m very grateful. You’re too generous, really. Kaede says I have enough kimonos to clothe the whole village!”

He shrugs. “You are a young woman,” he says – and her heart soars, thinking that perhaps he has finally noticed - “and a ward of the West, despite your residence. You will have the things befitting of your station.”

A childish urge to huff and blow her bangs out of her face rises to the surface, but she squashes it. She turns to the teapot.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived, I had returned to the village to get more hot water. Would you like some tea?”

He nods before leaning casually against the tree at his back and studies the canopy above them. She tears open the packet of tea leaves and allows them to steep. “It’s a special blend from Jinenji. He says that it’s very light and subtle, I hope you like it.”

Sesshomaru nods noncommittally. She pours the tea and offers him a cup. He leans forward to accept it, but when he is halfway there his head jerks to a stop. He frowns and sits back, turning his head to investigate.

A thick lock of his hair is knotted and tangled in a jutting edge of tree bark. He reaches behind him and plucks the strand away from the tree, eyeing the knot indifferently. For a brief moment he picks at it delicately with the ends of his claws but gains no purchase. She looks on with horror as he extends one slender, claw-tipped finger and makes to saw off the offending lock.

The words tumble out before she can stop them. "No! You mustn’t!”

His hand stills and he gives her an appraising look. She fumbles and puts up her hands in supplication. "I mean, do as you please! It's just..."

He raises an eyebrow and waits.

"It’s just that your hair is so..." The exact word that comes to mind is _pretty_ , but she can't possibly say _that_. Instead she changes tactics. "It would be a shame to cut it. I bet we can detangle it if we work hard enough."

The other eyebrow joins the first near his hairline. "We?"

She can feel heat in her cheeks. "If you'll allow me, I think I can help."

He regards her carefully, and each second of scrutiny feels like an eternity. "You wish to _groom_ me?"

Her face flames. "I didn't mean it like that!" She claps a hand over her mouth and averts her eyes. She really _hadn’t_ meant it like that. She had just wanted to intervene to save that magnificent hair from unnecessary destruction. It hadn’t occurred to her just what she was suggesting, or what it might entail. But now that she thinks about it…

Her eyes threaten to glaze over and she blinks hard. _Focus!_ The seconds are ticking by and she still has no idea how to respond. She’s stuck – it’s too late to play it off like a joke, and if she rescinds the offer he might get the wrong idea. Or, rather, the _right_ idea. She suppresses a groan. She does her best to school her features and tries to remember that she has offered to do hundreds of things for him over the years, and this was just one more. Just because she would be _touching_ him didn’t make any difference, right? She swallows hard and looks back at him.

Too late she sees the glint of mirth in his eye. He was… _teasing?_ Her heart drops, but whether it’s in relief or disappointment, she isn’t sure. She smiles nervously and resolves to keep her hands steady as she reaches for her tea, waiting for the moment to pass. For once, she cannot think of a single thing to say.

She can feel his eyes on her as he considers her for a long moment and she tries not to squirm. Then he nonchalantly flicks the lock of hair behind his shoulder. His gaze settles into the distance.

"You may assist me, if it pleases you.”

Her heart jolts and she almost chokes on her tea. He wants her help? Well, she doesn’t have to be told twice. But then she glances at her hands, her nails blunt and ragged from digging up roots and herbs. If his claws couldn’t do the trick, she had no hope of doing any better. She makes up her mind and scrambles to her feet, shouting over her shoulder as she sprints in the direction of the village. “Please wait there, Lord Sesshomaru! I’ll be right back!”

The fields are a blur as her sandals slap against the hard-packed dirt path. She is sure that she earns more than a few odd looks from the villagers as she passes yet again, but she couldn't care less. She makes it to the hut in record time and doesn't even stop to remove her shoes as she rockets toward her room. Her luck seems to be turning; Kaede must be out running an errand. She zeroes in on the item she needs: a simple comb, waiting just where she left it that morning. She snatches it up, hugging it to her chest like a trophy, and then she is back out the door in a flash.

When she reaches the clearing he is right where she left him, calmly sipping his tea. The dappled afternoon light dances across his features. She slows her steps and tries to regain her composure.

"Found what I needed!" She waves the comb in the air. Her breath comes in light pants. "Do you like the tea?"

He nods and takes another sip. She settles back down next to him and regards his position. The enormity of what she is about to do threatens to overtake her; she takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the practicalities. "Um, would you please turn to the left? It will help me get a better angle."

He repositions himself wordlessly and she is confronted with a cascade of silver. It flows in long lengths down his back and pools all around him on the blanket. There’s just so _much_ of it, she doesn’t know how he can even move his head under its weight. He clears his throat lightly and she realizes that she is just staring while he is waiting expectantly. She snaps to attention and immediately scans the mass for the tangle. It isn’t hard to find; the jagged edges interrupt the smooth ropes that are coiled on the ground.

With unsteady hands she picks up the knot gingerly between two fingers and starts to pick lightly at it with the comb. It takes some effort – she can see now why he wanted to cut it – but she persists. Piece by piece she unravels the snagged strands and smooths them down along with the rest. His hair is like liquid silk in her hands and the act of running it through her fingers is soothing. Her nervousness recedes and she falls into a comfortable rhythm. She hums as she works, and this time the notes don’t feel empty as they fill the space.

The surreal quality of the moment is not lost on her, and she tries to memorize each facet of the experience: the way the crisp breeze ruffles her sleeves, the earthy scent of the forest, the sound of birdsong, and the feel of his hair as it glides against her skin. _Especially_ that. She reflects that she rarely has the opportunity to touch him, even in this roundabout way. Their relationship may have started with her dumping water over his head, but that type of familiarity ended as soon as he was healed. It only took one frothing lecture from Jaken about impertinence and respect after he had caught her snuggling up to the edge of Lord Sesshomaru’s pelt for warmth one night for her to understand her place. After that, she knew not to get too close. If she was scared she hid behind him, or when she was excited she would approach him, but the distance between them was not to be breached.

Well, that was almost true. That distance had been breached on multiple occasions, but it was always brief, always out of necessity, and always initiated by him. As a child he had carried her when she needed rescuing or attended to her when she was injured. Well, maybe it wasn’t _always_ out of necessity, either. After Naraku was defeated and he left her in the village, he would occasionally lay a hand on her shoulder or tuck a strand of hair behind her ear in farewell. As she grew, however, his touch became less and less frequent and the physical distance between them had grown. It was ironic and frustrating: the closer she wanted to be, the father away he was. But _this_ kind of contact is completely unprecedented. She almost giggles at the thought of what she might have done with this opportunity had it presented itself when she were a child. She had always dreamed of threading flowers in his hair but she never would have dared. She still wouldn’t, but the idea makes her smile nonetheless.

Before she knows it the final pieces of the knot fall away, and disappointment floods her chest. She feels as though this may never happen again, and she can’t help but prolong it just a little. She combs just the bits that are lying on the ground, fanning the edges, careful not to touch his body. After all, she rationalizes, combing it now could save him from having more problems later. She was doing him a favor, really. The strands shimmer under her ministrations. But even this task ends too quickly. She sighs inwardly and runs a palm over the smooth edges once more, knowing she has imposed upon him enough. She is about to tell him that she is finished, but when she glances up at his straight back she spies something she had not noticed before.

She can't believe her good luck. Perhaps the universe didn’t hate her after all.

She bites her lip. "Lord Sesshomaru?"

"Yes?"

"There is another one. It’s twisted in the hinges of your shoulder guard. May I remove it for you?"

He gives a small, elegant shrug. "If you like."

She can’t reach it from her current position; she rises to her knees and edges closer, careful not to kneel on the locks she had just lovingly brushed. As she gets closer she hopes that those things she had heard about dog demons being able to smell nervousness were exaggerated. With eager and trembling fingers she reaches out to extract the knot from his armor, and begins picking it apart like the first. She is certain that he isn’t tender-headed but she is gentle all the same. This one is smaller than the other and takes little time to untangle. When it is finished, she softly rakes her fingers through the long stands, returning them to their rightful place. The task is again complete, but her fingers itch to continue.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and tells herself that fortune favors the bold; if she has learned anything from her travels with Lord Sesshomaru it is that one must approach every task with unwavering confidence. Comb in hand, she proceeds to smooth the longs strands along his right side, then moves gradually left. He _has_ to know that she should be finished by now but he says nothing. She knows he can't feel the comb as the tines scrape lightly against the armor at his back, but it feels as close to really touching him as she might dare. In the end he is gleaming from the shoulders down and she can’t contain her pride in a job well done. She eyes the rest, but knows that there is a difference between confidence and over-confidence – watching Lord Sesshomaru fight Inuyasha all those years ago was enough to teach her to discriminate between the two. She knows she has taken more than enough liberties with him for one day. No need to push her luck.

She scoots back to her place on the blanket, putting the comb in the basket. “All finished! And we didn’t have to cut it.”

He readjusts to a forward-facing position and the mercurial edges of his hair glide against the surface of the blanket. Something in her chest flutters as he runs his fingers through the strands, casually tucking them behind his ear.

He glances at her handiwork and nods. “Thank you, Rin.”

She beams at the rare display of gratitude. “It was my pleasure!” The words fall out of her mouth, and she hopes that he doesn’t know _exactly_ how true they are. There is a funny look in his eyes that she can’t quite place. She clears her throat and her eyes skip away, falling on a green sprig not far from the edge of the blanket. She seizes it with more fervor than necessary. “Look, Lord Sesshomaru! Arikko! Did you know that it can be used to treat stomach pain? Just this afternoon Lady Kaede was teaching me how to identify it…”

Discomfort melts away and they fall back into a familiar pattern. By the time the sun sets, she feels that she has updated him on all that he has missed in the past three months and then some. His comments are sparse, but that’s nothing new. At dusk she reluctantly gathers the tea set, blanket, and his gift into the basket and he escorts her back to the village. She is chattering about the recent maladies she has successfully treated when he stops at the torii arch.

“Is something wrong, Lord Sesshomaru?”

His gaze searches the village as he subtly scents the air, his expression souring. “I must be on my way.”

Her shoulders droop and she turns to face him, taking a few steps closer. “So soon? But you only just arrived!” The urge to stomp her foot returns. “I know it isn’t much, but there’s always a room prepared for you – “

“I’ll be taking my leave.” His eyes fall to hers and he seems to read the expression on her face, softening his tone. “But I will return again. Soon.”

Her heart almost stops when his fingers find a stray lock of hair that has fallen over her shoulder, claws delicately combing through the edges. Before she even has a chance to process, let alone respond, the hand withdraws.

“Be well, Rin.” With that he leaps into the air and is gone, a blinding orb of light fading into the darkening sky.

She stares after him for a moment as her body and mind catch up to the present. She fingers the lock of hair he had touched and her cheeks burn. With a smile she turns and makes her way up the stairs.

The pang of disappointment at his abrupt departure diminishes significantly as she reviews the day’s events. She _touched_ him. And _he_ touched _her_. She _knew_ today would be the day. He might have been late, and he might not have stayed for long, but it was worth the wait.

She is so caught up in her reverie that she doesn’t notice the voices coming from inside the hut upon her approach. When she pulls back the door covering, she sees that Kaede has guests. Inuyasha and his wife are seated around the fire sharing a meal. Suddenly Lord Sesshomaru’s rapid departure makes much more sense. She loves them dearly, but the selfish part of her wishes that they could have stayed with Miroku and Sango just one more night.

Inuyasha swallows a bite of fish and gives her a look. “Oi! Did you spend too much time in the sun today? You’re as red as my fire-rat!”

Kagome elbows him before Rin has a chance to respond. “Inuyasha! Be nice! Kaede says that Rin had a _guest_ today.”

“A guest…?” He eyes the package sitting on top of her basket, the blue and gold ribbons instantly recognizable. He rolls his eyes. “Oh, _him_. It had been so long, I thought maybe he’d finally stopped comin’ around.”

Rin wilts a little. “You thought Lord Sesshomaru had forgotten about me?”

“For your sake I hoped he had. Nobody likes that pain in the a – “

Kagome shoves a rice ball in his mouth, effectively cutting him off. “I’m sure Sesshomaru would never forget about you, Rin. What Inuyasha is trying to say is that he is concerned about you. Sesshomaru has many obligations and Inuyasha doesn’t want to see you get hurt if he can’t come see you regularly, despite his good intentions.”

Inuyasha chokes on the rice ball. “ _Good intentions?_ That bastard never had a ‘good intention’ in his life.” He starts to get to his feet, groping for Tessaiga. “In fact, maybe I should go find that asshole and clarify what his _intentions_ are comin’ around here all the time. He needs to leave you alone before – “

_“Inuyasha SIT!”_

Across the fire, Kaede lowers her chopsticks and frowns at the cracks in the floorboards. Kagome gives her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Kaede, _Inuyasha_ will fix that for you in the morning.” She turns to Rin. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just cranky after a long trip home.”

His muffled voice drifts up from the floor. “I’m not ‘cranky.’ Or at least I wasn’t before.” He sits up and wipes a hand over his face. “You know I’m right about this, Kagome! This has gone on for long enough. You know it’s just a matter of time before – “

The glare on Kagome’s face tells him she isn’t afraid to use the subjugation beads again, and his teeth click shut. She sighs. “Why don’t you go put your things away and join us for dinner, Rin? The fish is excellent; Inuyasha caught it on the way home.”

She nods and steps into her modest room, setting her basket on her sleeping pallet. She tries to channel her good mood from earlier, but Inuyasha’s words have spooked her. What _were_ Lord Sesshomaru’s intentions for her? True, she had lived in the village for some years now, but she never considered the arrangement to be permanent. She just figured that Lord Sesshomaru would come to collect her when he was ready. Perhaps she was wrong. Did everyone just assume she was here to stay?

And what was Inuyasha about to say? A matter of time until _what_? While it was true that Lord Sesshomaru hadn’t been visiting as frequently as he used to, she just assumed that he had other obligations like Kagome said. But what if he was just preparing her for the day he didn’t return at all? Her throat threatens to close and there is a prickling behind her eyes.

She knows that the others are waiting for her to join them, but she can’t face them just yet. She busies herself with refolding the blanket and placing the tea set aside for washing later. When she pulls the comb out of the basket all of her giddy excitement from earlier feels foolish. She puts it away and tries not to think about it. The last item in the basket is the gift from Lord Sesshomaru, and the bright colored ribbon seems to mock her. Earlier in the day she had imagined modeling it for him when they returned to the hut, as though he would be pleased to see it. Pleased to see _her_. How stupid she had been.

With a resigned sigh she pulls the package into her lap. The ribbon comes away easily and the rice paper folds back to reveal a kimono of fine tailored silk, just as expected. The deep indigo fabric is elaborately detailed in the floral patterns she favors. She shakes her head at the extravagance of it. The clothes are designed for royalty, not a girl who spends her days tending to cuts and scouring the fields. She wants to be flattered; these are clothes for a princess, and normally when she unwraps one of his gifts that’s exactly how she feels. But his words – and those of her friends – curdle her appreciation for it. She was a ward of the West, and that’s all there was to it. _Of course_ he would outfit her in fine attire; she represented him and it would be disgraceful to do anything less. Once his obligation to her ended, there would be no more visits, no more gifts, no more _him_. She can’t believe she didn’t realize it before.

The silk wrinkles in her fists, and she almost tosses it away when she notices the delicate embroidery. It’s a small detail, and if she hadn’t been looking closely she might have missed it altogether. But as soon as she sees it the cooling embers in her heart reignite and flare.

Forget-me-nots. The kimono was decorated with tiny bunches of embroidered forget-me-nots.

It’s silly to hope. She knows that. And it is even sillier to think that the most powerful demon in all of Japan would stoop to something as trivial and as _human_ as sentimentality.

But maybe…

Maybe.

For now, maybe is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unnecessarily long A/N: You ever have one of those crushes that’s all-consuming, haunting your dreams and crowding your thoughts? One in which the object of your affections is completely idealized and practically sparkles in your memories of them? In other words, ever been an adolescent/young adult? Yeah, Rin too. And like any young person, she’s filled with insecurities and mood swings, so if she seems a little volatile, there you go.
> 
> An explanation on the weird visiting schedule: I have this headcannon that somewhere along the line Inuyasha and Kagome started visiting Sango and Miroku during the week of the new moon. It started out as a business arrangement/safety in numbers sort of thing during Inuyasha’s night of weakness as things were stabilizing after Naraku’s defeat, and then just became an excuse to catch up regularly. Sesshomaru picked up on this pretty quick, and this became his preferred time to visit Rin. It’s not that Sesshomaru and Inuyasha hate each other per se, but they don’t really like each other either, and it’s just easier for everyone if they avoid each other if possible. Hence, Rin gets excited every month when they leave town, as that’s the most likely time for a visit from her favorite demon lord. 
> 
> This was supposed to be short. Like maybe 5,000 words max. But I can’t help myself and it has ballooned considerably. I’m splitting it up into three chapters/arcs, which will be posted shortly. I was listening to Neko Case on a loop while writing this (especially Fox Confessor Brings the Flood), and if you are not familiar with her work, I strongly suggest you check her out! There’s a lyric of hers (taken horribly out of context, I’m sure) at the start of each chapter in tribute. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your toothbrush out, because there's some sugary sweetness coming your way...

And it’s the devil I love/ And it’s as funny as real love/ And that’s as real as true love

Neko Case - Hold On, Hold On

* * *

“Come on, Lord Sesshomaru! If you don’t catch up you might get lost!”

The sun beats down on them both as they traverse the meadows beyond the village. The day is hot already, promising an even hotter summer to come, but the humidity hints at the possibility of future storms. Rin wipes a hand across her forehead and steadies the basket under her arm, her eyes scanning the ground. A stray sprig of sophora pokes out from between the long grasses, and she swoops down and tugs it by the roots, adding it to the growing pile in the basket. There would be no leisurely tea parties in Inuyasha’s Forest today, at least not if they didn’t hurry. Supplies were too low to put off collection any longer. The list was daunting, but she had been making short work of it. Between instruction from Kaede and Jinenji she has become skilled at hunting down herbs and medicinal plants.

The demon lord appears at her side moments later, frowning. “I do not get lost.”

She laughs, thinking this may not be _entirely_ true. In retrospect, she can’t help but wonder just how purposeful some of their travels had been all those years ago, and if they hadn’t been walking in circles at least once. At the time, she would have never thought to question it. She had always just trusted that he would lead the way.

“Of course not. Maybe I’m just worried that _I’ll_ get lost instead.”

He considers this. “You did have a penchant for disappearing unexpectedly.”

Her free hand finds her hip, but she smiles. “Hey! Most of the time it wasn’t my fault! I kept getting kidnapped.” A memory of lulling flutes and angry monks flashes in her mind. Her stance softens and her eyes slide to the ground, smiling softly. “It didn’t matter though. You always came back for me.”

He sticks his nose in the air. “My tracking skills are excellent.”

She sighs. This is not what she means, and she is certain that he knows it- how much more obvious can she be? Since his last visit two months ago, she has been trying to figure out just how to ask him about – how had Inuyasha put it? – his _intentions._ Before, she had been content to wait and simply look forward to his visits, but since then the question has wormed its way inside her heart. It wasn’t so easy now to chalk up his infrequent visits and swift departures to pressing obligations elsewhere. After all, Lord Sesshomaru is the type of demon who gets what he wants, when he wants it. No one opposes him, and nothing stands in his way when he is on a mission. If he had wanted her to join him, he would have said something by now.

Which begs the question: why _hadn’t_ he? Is she really just an obligation, a ward to protect? She had thought that she was special, that he cared for her in his own way. She had wracked her brain for two months to determine what might be keeping them apart, and with great reluctance she acknowledged that there was at least one major barrier that might give him pause.

She is human.

As a child, this difference never struck her as problematic. Their backgrounds or heritage didn’t matter, because Lord Sesshomaru was her… well, friend wasn’t the right word, exactly. Nor was he her father, or her brother, or her guard. He just _was_. The label wasn’t as important as the fact that they mattered to each other. She could read the subtle changes in his expression better than even Jaken, and he seemed to sense her needs, even if he didn’t always cater to them. She knew how different they were, but she never gave it a second thought.

Now, however, her powers of observation are failing her. She suddenly isn’t sure if he is shutting her out or worse, that had never really been able to read him at all. Perhaps she had just been projecting what she had wanted to see on the blank canvas he provided.

And what a canvas it is. He is nothing short of perfect; ageless, pristine, and ethereal. Brushing her own coarse hair in the mornings only reminds her of the silken quality of his; donning the beautiful clothing he gives her only reminds her that it is meant to be worn by beings with grace and soft hands. Suddenly the differences between them that had once faded into the background are taking center stage, unbearably vivid and blaringly loud.

She is human, and he is not. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. And while he might have incrementally softened his stance on humans over the years, that doesn’t mean that he will ever consider her. Not in the way that she considers him, anyway. There is still the chance that there are pieces to the puzzle that she doesn’t know, and that he is waiting to invite her along once the time is right. But even if he does, it may never be the way she wants it. Inuyasha’s words bubble up in her mind: _you know it’s only a matter of time…_ She wonders if she is setting herself up for heartbreak. She wonders if it’s already started, and that she’s just in denial.

His most recent gift certainly doesn’t help. Instead of clothing, he had brought her a prized scroll on medicinal herbs that had been in his family for centuries. It is a handsome gift indeed, but she can’t help but wonder about the intention behind it. Is he trying to tell her that he wants her to stay in the village? Not that this is a terrible option; she would have a good life surrounded by people who love and care for her. But it is far from her first choice.

And that is exactly the crux of the problem. Rin is well aware of her own preferences, but she is far less certain of her options.

The question itches at the back of her mind, and it’s casting a pall over his visit, making it harder for her to enjoy their time together. She’s been fishing around the topic all day, casting out flattering hints delivered beneath shy lashes, but he never takes the bait. Part of her wants to just blurt it out. The other part is terrified of the answer, and it is this part that wins out. She smiles weakly. “Well, there’s no need to use your tracking skills anymore. You always know exactly where to find me.”

“Hn.”

Inwardly she groans. Subtlety really wasn’t his forte; hinting around at things would probably never get her the answers she wants, and yet she can’t bring herself to put her fears into words. Not knowing is slowly driving her mad, but knowing might be worse. She sighs and hitches the basket higher on her hip and starts to step away feeling defeated. “Well, come on, we still have more herbs to collect or Lady Kaede will be upset.”

“Wait.”

She turns. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes are fixed just above hers, and his look is imperious. “You are dirty.”

She flinches as though he had struck her. _Dirty?_ Her shoulders droop and she thinks, _this is it, this is the truth I’ve been avoiding, this is where he tells me that I’m just a dirty human and this is his last visit and he’s not coming back and why did I think he would ever -_

He points to his forehead, fingers shadowing the crescent moon on his brow. “Here.”

She blinks. Her hand comes up and she rubs her fingers across her own forehead, and they come away specked with dirt. Then it dawns on her, bright and clear, and she feels ridiculous: _I’ve been pulling up plants all afternoon. And I’ve been using my hands to wipe away sweat._

Relief floods her veins until a second thought occurs to her, one that makes her want to crawl in the Bone Eater’s Well and hide there for the rest of her natural life. _I’ve been trying to endear myself to the Lord of the West with dirt all over my face_. Inwardly she shrinks but outwardly she laughs and scrubs at her forehead with the back of her sleeve.

“Better?”

The corners of his mouth turn down. “Worse.”

A quick glance at her sleeve tells her that her hands aren’t the only things that are dirty. The well is looking more and more attractive, though at this moment she feels she might just die of humiliation on the spot. She can feel her face flaming as she looks frantically for a clean spot on her kimono.

Cool fingers make contact with her forehead and she stills. Gently but methodically he brushes the backs of his fingers against her skin, his claws tucked into his palm. She closes her eyes to keep out the dirt. When his hand withdraws she mourns the loss of contact and waits a heartbeat to open her eyes, just in case. When she does he is watching her.

She tries to find her voice. “Better now?”

He nods, but he is still frowning. “Yes. But your skin is hot. Are you well?”

She is simultaneously thrilled by his concern and dumbstruck by his obliviousness. “I’m fine!” she chokes out. “I’m sure it’s just from being out in the sun for so long. Let’s hurry and finish up here so we can both relax!” With that she turns on her heel and heads father into the meadow, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. If she couldn’t get control over her traitorous heart after just an innocent touch, she was doomed when they inevitably parted ways.

He trails behind her as they head away from the village toward the last stop: the forest to the east. Unlike Inuyasha’s Forest, this one is crowded, wilder. Villagers have long avoided it for the rumors of malevolent demons and spirits that inhabit it, but she has never been afraid. Travelling with a malevolent demon throughout her childhood might have something to do with it. She has braved the forest alone plenty of times without incident, but today she isn’t alone. Lord Sesshomaru is more threatening any other predator they might encounter, and he is no threat to her. Not a physical one, at least. He is certainly a threat to her sanity.

She distracts herself from her current predicament by mentally ticking off the final items on her list. As they enter the forest, the trees are thick and block out the direct sunlight above, giving them a respite from the heat. The steady buzz of cicadas permeates the forest as she picks her way among the trees, plucking mushrooms and tender ferns that thrive in the damp shade. Kudzu grows in abundance here, and she gathers the roots and leaves into her basket. A tired path winds through the bushes and trees, but as they travel deeper it thins or disappears altogether in places where the forest has long since encroached upon it. Not that it matters; despite what she told Lord Sesshomaru earlier she was at no risk of getting lost. She has scoured this forest a hundred times and is familiar with each curve of the path and even the secrets that lay beyond.

 _The secrets beyond._ She hadn’t planned to make any unscheduled stops today; it had been her intention to complete the chore for Kaede as soon as possible so that they could return to the village in time for tea. But the heart of the forest seems to call to her and she finds she can’t resist.

She veers left off of the path, pushing her way through hanging vines and scratching tree limbs. From behind her she can hear his voice, tinted with concern.

“Rin!”

She calls over her shoulder. “Follow me, Lord Sesshomaru! I want to show you something!”

She can hear rustling behind her as he follows at a distance. It isn’t long before she finds what she is looking for. Dense foliage opens up to reveal a wide clearing, a rare bright spot at the center of the forest where trees were downed years ago by storms or time. The jagged remains of a few old stumps and two felled trees crisscross the space, but only the barest patches of old bark can be seen peeking out against the force of nature that has exploded in their absence. Blooming vines curl around the old stumps and trunks, competing with lichen and clusters of mushrooms. Grasses and wildflowers as tall as her knees blanket the forest floor. Winged insects flit about, flirting with fragrant blooms.

The sight of it takes her breath away. She doesn’t have the chance to visit often, but it is one of the few places in her life where she is guaranteed an instant sense of peace. Stepping across the threshold is like entering a place where time stands still and all her troubles melt away. She pities the villagers for missing out on such magnificence out of fear. As she watches, a breeze catches the stalks and the flowers seem to wave and bow in greeting.

Rin places her basket in the shade at the edge of the clearing on a soft bed of moss. She skips ahead, opening her arms and spinning in the sunshine. This is exactly what she needed today. She can’t help but be happy here.

“Look, Lord Sesshomaru!” She hugs her arms. “Isn’t it… beautiful?”

And it is. _He_ is.

He’s seated himself on one of the old tree trunks, an arm draped casually over a hitched knee. In the golden light of afternoon, surrounded by wildflowers, he strikes a bold, luminescent silhouette. In an instant all of the embarrassment and doubt and opinions from others fall away and she knows: this is right. The space, which had seemed so perfect before, now seems complete in a way that she hadn’t thought possible. He belongs here with her, she is sure of it. But even if they never come here again, and even if it isn’t meant to be, nothing will ever take this moment away from her. It is hers. And so is he, even if he never acknowledges it.

Her heart flutters in her chest and her head feels light. She is drawn toward him, inspired by this place and this moment. It occurs to her that she has been caught up with trying to figure out how to _talk_ to a laconic demon about what she wants, when she could just _show_ him instead. An idea forms and she acts on it before she can think twice.

She can feel him watching her, _wants_ him to watch her, as her feet pull her in his direction. Along the way she stoops to gather bright golden blossoms in her hands, the same shade she knows his eyes would be if she risked a glance at him. She picks her way toward him, adding a few more choice stems as she goes.

She finds her voice, and it comes out softer than she means it. “This is my favorite place,” she says, focusing on her task, each step taking her closer and closer to where he sits. “It’s just so vibrant this time of year. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

Another step. And another. The white of his hakama practically glows in her peripheral vision. “I don’t think anyone else comes here. Or at least I hope they don’t. I like to think it’s my little secret.”

One more step. There. She stands before him and looks him in the eyes, which are watching her curiously. “Now it’s _our_ secret.”

He holds her gaze and she wills herself not to look away. For a long moment the world shrinks to just the two of them, the space between them electric and warm. The feelings she has for him are too big to contain; they leak out and cause the corners of her mouth to curve upward. He _has_ to feel it too. He _has_ to. She hopes he will smile back. Just a little. Just this once.

Instead his eyes skip away and focus on the flowers in her hands. “Are those for the medicine you make?”

She is not to be deterred. She shakes her head and holds them out to him, smile unwavering. “No, they’re for you.”

Thin eyebrows tick upward. “For me?”

“Yes. You’re always bringing me such wonderful gifts; it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Seconds tick by and he doesn’t move. A voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Kaede says _he will reject them. He will reject you._ But the voice is quieter than it has been in weeks past. Perhaps it’s the magic of the place, perhaps she is enchanted by the beauty that surrounds her and the spark of the moment, but right now his response is arbitrary. She won’t regret her actions, and she won’t regret her feelings for him, no matter what the consequences.

These thoughts don’t stop her from releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he reaches out and takes them from her. He turns them in his hand, an inscrutable look on his face.

“It has been years since you presented me with flowers.” His voice is distant, contemplative. She knows he can’t help but be reminded of all the times she brought him pretty blooms as a child, laughing and skipping along on their travels. He’s right, it _has_ been years. But she’s not a little girl anymore.

He spares her a glance before returning his attention to the blooms, the claws on his free hand trailing lightly over the delicate petals. With quick, precise movements he plucks one from the bunch and gently sets the remainder on the stump beside him. He examines the solitary flower with a critical eye as he spins it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. To her surprise, claws flash and leaves flutter and fall away from the stem.

Whatever response she was expecting, this isn’t it. Though she told herself that his response was arbitrary, part of her wonders if she should feel at least a little offended that he is mutilating her gift right in front of her.

When the stem is bare he unfolds himself from the stump and gracefully rises to his feet. She might be taller now than she was in her youth, but even now he towers over her. The space between them is so brief that if she took one small step forward their toes would touch. She has to tilt her chin back to meet his gaze. At this proximity, she can count the lashes that frame his vivid eyes, which have taken on an uncharacteristic softness.

Slowly, he reaches out and brushes the hair away from one side of her face, pushing it behind her ear and over her shoulder. She holds her breath. There really _is_ magic in this place, and it seems that he, too, has been caught in its spell. Her mind sprints ahead as she imagines a thousand and one things that might happen next, and she wants them all. When his fingers brush the tip of her ear it’s suddenly too much; her eyes fall closed and the air in her lungs escapes. She’s an expert at waiting, but perhaps her waiting has finally come to an end.

Something scratches lightly along her cheek and then threads through the hair at her temple. Soft petals settle against her skin and the weight of a stem hangs behind her ear. With her eyes closed the scent of the blossom is all the more intense. She can feel him adjust it slightly, arranging it to his liking. He seems satisfied and yet his hand lingers.

“Rin.” His voice is as soft as the petals at her cheek, as smooth as his hair in her hands all those months ago. Carefully she opens her eyes.

His face is closer than she remembers and her whole world narrows to the points of light reflected in his eyes. As the back of a finger ghosts against the underside of her chin the thousand and one things she had imagined narrows down to a single, breathtaking, impossible certainty.

The world dims and for an instant she thinks that the universe must hate her, that she is fainting in the middle of the most exciting moment of her young adult life. But when his head snaps up and surveys the sky she realizes that only one of her hypotheses is confirmed.

She isn’t fainting. But the universe _does_ hate her.

She looks up and for the first time notices the clouds that are rolling in, blocking out the afternoon sun. The thick forest has insulated them from any signs of its approach, but now that her gaze is directed upward she can see the tops of the trees whipping in the wind. The promise of a storm had held true and they are miles from the village.

He looks back at her and the light has faded from his eyes as well. The moment is broken. She resists the urge to cry.

“Rin. Get your things. We’re leaving.”

“Yes, my lord.” She retrieves her basket and when she turns he has disappeared. Suddenly the space seems incomplete without him, eerie in the unnaturally fading light. Her voice comes out softer than she means it.

“Lord Sesshomaru?”

A flash of white and silver drops down from the tree tops. She jumps in surprise. His voice is matter-of-fact. “There is a storm coming from the south. It is not safe for you here.”

She nods. “Okay, we’d better get going then. I know a shortcut – “

“No. That will be too slow. Come.” He opens an arm in invitation.

Her heart leaps into her throat. This hadn’t been included in the thousand and one possibilities, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome addition to the list. She swallows the giddy giggle that threatens to rise at the prospect.

She steps toward him but then hesitates. He hasn’t carried her since she was small, and she isn’t sure what the logistics are supposed to be. Should she crawl on his back like she had seen Kagome do with Inuyasha?

“Um, how should I –"

He doesn’t answer. Instead he strides forward and she represses a squeak as he scoops her up in one arm, his hand secured under one thigh as he hugs her to his chest. Her face is half-buried in the pelt on his shoulder and with her limited vision she casts a wary eye at his armored chest, adjusting so she doesn’t come into contact with the spikes there. She has no idea what to do with her hands, so she hugs the basket to her chest. She jolts when he springs into the air, mindful not to drop the herbs they had spent all afternoon collecting.

They sail above the trees and in the distance she can see the meadow they had been in earlier that day, though it seems like a hundred years ago. Did all of that really happen? It seems impossible, and now she knows that it would also be impossible to forget. Her mind is already cataloging the details, committing the things that happened to memory, as well as editing them to include things that didn’t. Things that almost happened. Things that _should_ have happened. She curses the weather and her lousy luck.

She glances at Lord Sesshomaru, trying to gauge what he might be thinking in the aftermath of the afternoon, but his attention is fixed on the horizon. At this altitude, the wind howls around them and the scent of static and rain permeates her senses. She tries to look behind them, curious to see the storm that is now the object of her disdain, but she just gets a mouthful of fur for her trouble. It doesn’t really matter, she supposes. She might be frustrated by almosts and maybes, but right now she is cradled in his arms, so she can’t exactly complain. Instead of cursing her bad luck, she focuses on the feeling of his hand on her thigh and the heat of his body against hers. She tucks down against him and closes her eyes, allowing herself a small smile.

The flight is all too brief and she can feel their quick descent. He touches down with grace and steadies her as he carefully lowers her to the ground. As soon as she is standing he steps back. There is an emptiness in his absence that she thinks she will feels for days to come.

She casts a glance over her shoulder and sees now what he saw before they left. Purple and gray thunderheads loom heavy in the distance, rolling in thick and fast with the bracing winds. To the south the land is cloaked in premature dusk and bright muffled flashes dance inside the clouds. Tree limbs bow and shake their leaves. She covers the basket with one arm to protect its contents.

“I see why you wanted us to hurry, Lord Sesshomaru.”

His hair whips around him as he studies the skies. “Yes. You must seek shelter.”

They mount the stairs under the torii gate and veer to the left. The rain starts pattering against the roof tops just as she pulls back the door mat, ushering him inside.

The hut is dark. No candles are burning and the fire pit is cold. Dim gray light seeps in from a window in an adjoining room and from around the door frame, casting most of the room in shadow.

“Lady Kaede?”

No answer. Rin didn’t think to ask what Kaede’s plans were for the day, but it is unlike her to be gone in the afternoon. She sends a quick prayer to the spirits for her safety. She surveys the room and her eyes fall on her companion, his eyes bright in the dark. And then it hits her.

She is alone. In the house. With Lord Sesshomaru.

Not that they’ve never been alone together. They’re alone together all the time; they were alone together all afternoon. First in the fields, then in the meadow, and then in the forest…

Her heartbeat quickens at the thought. He is still watching her from the shadows. The room feels smaller, warmer than it should, and the rain on the roof is impossibly loud.

“Well!” She claps her hands together. “I should get a fire going. It looks like we might be in for a long night.” Her mind spins at the choice of words. She quickly turns and sees the firewood pile has not been replenished, another of her chores that she had put off to spend time with Lord Sesshomaru.

She groans. “There’s firewood in the shed. I’ll just be a minute – “

“I will go.” He strides back toward the door.

“Oh no, my lord, you don’t have to – “

“Wait here.”

He ducks under the mat and she stares after him for a moment, stunned that he would even know where to look. While she waits she gathers kindling and a box of matches. Outside the wind howls and the rain beats against the roof. Lightning cracks through the air and she can hear the sound of splintering wood. No doubt there would be downed trees and debris to clean up by morning. As the storm intensifies, she starts to worry. It’s taking longer than it should; maybe he _doesn’t_ know where to look. She is about to peek her head out the door to check on him when he reappears, arms full of enough firewood to last for days. He probably doesn’t know it, but he’s saved her more than a few splinters.

He arranges a few pieces in the fire pit and piles the rest in the corner. “The shed will require a new latch.” He dusts his hands off. “And a new door.”

Maybe that _wasn’t_ a fallen tree she had heard. She cringes; Lady Kaede would not be happy. “Oh. Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now. The important thing is that we have firewood! Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru!” She sends him a smile as she arranges the kindling and strikes a match, stoking the flames until the first of the logs catch. She strikes another and adds it to the other side.

“You have learned some magic, I see.”

“What?” The comment throws her. Despite Kaede’s suggestions, Rin’s training had focused only on healing and medicine. Unlike Kagome and Kaede, she had no significant talents as a priestess, nor did she want them. Learning to purify demons was not something she desired. She gives Lord Sesshomaru a confused look, and in the dim light she can see him gesture between the fire and her hands.

Understanding dawns. “Oh! No. These are called matches. Kagome brings them from her time; she says that there are some ‘modern conveniences’ that she refuses to live without.” She shakes open the box and picks one out. “See? You scratch this tip along the edge of the box and the friction produces the flame. You don’t have to use the box though; Kagome showed me how to do it with my thumbnail like this.” She flicks her nail against the match head and it bursts into flame. “Would you like to try?”

He takes the proffered box and gingerly removes a match. He inspects it, sniffing delicately and recoiling with the slightest curl of his lip. He holds it as demonstrated and flicks his thumb.

The match is immediately decapitated.

A bark of laughter escapes from her lips and he scowls. _Killing Perfection, indeed._ She raises a hand to cover her smile. “I’m sorry, my lord. I guess they just aren’t designed to withstand demon claws. Here, try the box.”

When the match lights successfully this time he seems satisfied. He tosses it into the fire and hands her back the box. She puts them away and settles across the fire from him. Silence stretches out, and there is an awkwardness to it that had never been there before, as though the afternoons events had sucked out all of the innocence and easiness. Her mind can’t help but return to the forest, to shafts of afternoon light and golden eyes and his hand in her hair –

Now was not the time for such thoughts. But she can’t help it. She wishes she knew what he was thinking. She wishes she knew if she would ever have that chance again. In the battle between wanting to think about it and desperately trying not to, there is no space for idle conversation. For the second time in as many visits, Rin has no idea what to say.

The fire blooms, bringing more light into the room. She picks at the sleeve of her kimono, trying not to fidget, her eyes everywhere but him. Looking at him will only make it worse. She is certain that right now he is bathed in soft golden firelight, his hair gleaming like burnished copper and his strong features caught in stark relief in the shadows. And then she will remember that they are all alone in this tiny room, caught in a fierce storm, no possibility of interruption –

She can’t help it.

She looks.

And gasps.

His brow furrows. “What is it?”

She hadn’t noticed before in the dim light of the hut, but now she isn’t sure how she could have missed it. “Lord Sesshomaru! You’re soaked!”

He is. The airy fabric of his kosode is now heavy with water, clinging to his upper body. The fur at his shoulder looks matted and sodden. His bangs are plastered to his forehead, obscuring the moon on his brow. The rest of his hair hangs in limp ropes down his back.

He lifts a sopping sleeve and eyes it casually before letting it fall back into his lap. He shrugs. “I was in the rain.”

Concern edges into her voice. “You must change, my lord! You’ll catch cold if you stay in those clothes.”

He gives her a flat look. “I am not susceptible to human illnesses. Water cannot harm me.”

She almost rolls her eyes at her own stupidity. _Of course_ he isn’t. “Still, we should do something about your armor. The leather might shrink and the metal will rust.”

He doesn’t respond right away, as though he is considering a matter far graver than potential damage to his belongings. When he blinks his eyes remain shut for a fraction longer than they should. “Very well.”

He stands and shrugs off the fur at his shoulder, leaving it in a pile on the floor. His hands find the obi at his waist and he carefully begins pulling on the ends to loosen the intricate knots. Something about the action makes her mouth go dry. “I – I’ll just go get a towel.” She glances at the length of his hair. “Or three.”

When she returns he is working on the buckles of the cuirass. She quickly goes to work sopping up the droplets of water that have condensed on his pelt. The busier she keeps her hands, the less she will be tempted to watch him undress.

Because that’s what’s happening. Right here, right now, in an empty hut in the middle of a storm, Lord Sesshomaru is _undressing_. Much like her suggestion in the forest that she help him untangle a knot, she hadn’t thought through the consequences of her words until after they escaped her lips. Not that she was sorry. While this _might_ have been included in the thousand and one things, never in her wildest dreams did she ever think it would be a reality. Her luck might not be so bad after all.

The cuirass and attached leather plates dangle in her peripheral vision for an instant before he lays them flat on the ground. She wipes the towel down the length of it before concentrating her efforts, applying pressure to squeeze any remaining water out. It is thick and supple under her hands, and this close she can see that despite its age it is in excellent condition. It’s no surprise; few if any could get close enough to damage it.

It occurs to her that this is something that Jaken must do, though she had never seen him do it. There is a pang in her heart at the thought of relegating herself to the role of a servant, but it evaporates when he settles across from her and reaches for a towel, joining her in the work. Even if this was normally Jaken’s job, she is positive that this was not something they normally did together.

Thunder cracks outside and she jumps.

“Does the storm frighten you?”

She has studiously avoided looking at him since she recommended that he take better care of his armor, but when he addresses her habit overrides her nerves and she looks up. While he continues to work, her hand stills. It is so odd to see him like this, dressed simply in only white and red. The fur and the armor he always wears add bulk to his frame, but he is far from fragile without it. Unencumbered, she is free to admire the strong, broad shoulders that have been honed from centuries of fighting and the trim cinch of his waist. A wicked, greedy part of her brain whispers that she should offer him a dry kosode to change into, but she quickly shoves it away and ducks her head to hide her blush.

“No. It just startled me, that’s all.”

When the task is done, she takes their wet towels and sets them aside before reaching for a fresh one. She holds it out to him. “Would you care to dry your hair, my lord?”

He uses the towel to ruffle his bangs and then smooths the damp locks with his fingers so that they lay right. He reaches behind him and gathers the thick mass of hair into one thick rope. Methodically, he squeezes out the excess moisture, starting at the base of his neck and moving down. Rin finds herself mesmerized by this simple act, and she can’t help but think about the upkeep involved in having that much hair. How did he ever manage it when he had one arm? Bathing must have been tiresome.

It is a mistake to think about bathing and Lord Sesshomaru. Unbidden, she imagines him sitting waist deep in a hot spring, silver hair snaking on the surface of the water, water droplets catching and sparkling in his lashes as he carefully pours water over his head. It streams in rivulets down his chest, a single, stubborn drop clinging to his bottom lip, and –

“Rin.”

She startles. He is holding out the towel in one hand, and lazily dragging the claws of the other through damp locks, a sleepy look on his face as he gazes into the fire.

The words are out of her mouth before she can think about them or regret them. “Would you like my comb, Lord Sesshomaru?”

His eyes slide her way and she feels he can see right through her, and those eyes that hadn’t frightened her ever before – not when they were sharp with vengeance or bleeding red with rage – take on a predatory gleam. But she still isn’t frightened. Far from it.

He blinks and the indifferent mask descends back into place. He shrugs and returns his gaze to the fire.

She rockets to her feet and sprints to her room, eager to escape for a moment. When she is safely out of sight she drops to her knees and digs through her things for her comb. What was that look? Did she imagine it? Surely it was just a trick of the light. Either way, it sent her heart racing. After a few deep breaths to regain her composure, she makes her way back to the front room.

Rin crouches down next to him and holds out the comb. “Here you are.”

His gaze drops to the comb, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he looks back up at her and holds her gaze for just a moment before turning his back on her.

For a split second she is confused. Then realization washes over her in a wave.

It’s a request.

He isn’t humoring her or going along with her silly suggestions. He’s inviting her closeness, her touch. Something warm spreads throughout her chest as she kneels behind him, settling back on her heels.

Unfortunately, the scene before her is unlike the one she was faced with months ago in the woods. The storm took its toll and he really is a mess. The cascade is more like jagged straw, damp strands clumped together. She has her work cut out for her.

 _The best place to start is at the beginning._ The edges are the messiest, and she focuses her efforts there first. It takes more time than she thinks, picking through little tangles at the ends. Outside the storm continues to rage, sending torrents of rain against the walls of the hut. Rin hums to herself to smother the noise.

Once the tips of his hair are gleaming she moves to the mass off hair that falls down his back. The only way to tackle it is piece by piece. She selects a small handful and holds it away from him as she works the minor tangles apart with her fingers and then details the rest with the comb. As she works, it occurs to her that his armor is not here to serve as a barrier this time. When she is satisfied with the first section, she replaces it and runs the comb straight down his back, making light contact. He doesn’t respond, and in a fit of boldness she smooths the section one final time with the flat of her hand. At first contact his spine jolts just the slightest bit before relaxing again. She holds her breath, waiting for him to chastise her, but he says nothing. She takes this as acceptance and continues her work with a small smile.

She gets into the rhythm of the work. As she gains confidence in her approach her pace increases, tackling larger and larger sections, but always taking time to smooth down the finished piece with her hand. After the first time he no longer flinches at her touch. If last visit’s ‘grooming’ had been unprecedented, it was nothing compared to today’s events. Though she is still sore about the interruption in the forest, she also is begrudgingly thankful for the storm. Without it, she wouldn’t be in this position now. The universe clearly worked in mysterious ways.

Lost in her thoughts, she underestimates the size of one tangle and accidentally snags it in the tines of the comb, yanking on his head.

She cringes. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

He huffs. “Hardly.” She continues with a little more caution, and after a time the main mass of his hair is shining and smooth. And now she is at an impasse.

She eyes the hair that brushes against the thin skin at his neck but she hesitates to reach for it. Like everything else today, this is uncharted territory. He may have initiated this, but that didn’t mean she was free to take any liberties with him that she wanted. The boundaries between them seemed to be blurring, and it was simultaneously exhilarating and unbalancing. She almost laughs as she thinks that this dilemma is much like the greater one she faces: she knows what she wants, she is just waiting for permission to proceed.

And she knows he can’t read her mind, not really, but he seems to sense her reluctance and grants her the words she wants to hear: “Finish, if you like.”

With trembling hands she raises on her knees to drag the comb through the hair at his shoulders, and then at the base of his neck. She gathers thick locks and shies them away from the pale skin at the place where his neck curves gently into his shoulder. She winds the strands around her fingers and lets them twist around her wrist, watching the damp locks turn to mercury under her ministrations.

When the teeth of the comb find his scalp his shoulders tense incrementally for just an instant before falling. When he seems accustomed to this she takes a risk, running her fingers through the hair at his scalp. His breath hitches, the sound so soft she thinks she must have imagined it. It is killing her not to be able to see his reaction. He may be difficult or even impossible to read at the best of times, but not being able to gauge the flickers of emotion that sometimes pass his face as she pushes these boundaries is too much. Shifting her weight to the right, she leans around just slightly to try to glimpse his expression.

He is distant as always, eyes fixed on the wall across from him. This close, she can study the splashes of color that line his eyelids and the varying shades of copper and gold that rim his eyes. From what she can tell, his expression is calm, composed, relaxed. There is nothing to indicate discomfort or distaste as she absentmindedly continues to stroke his hair, and for that she is grateful. She is about to lean back, but her eyes dart down and she notices that his hands are fisted tightly on the tops of his knees, his knuckles white. The disparity is curious, and she leans just a little further to get a closer look –

Her fingers graze his ear and his eyes flutter for just an instant before snapping to hers. The movement startles her and her balance shifts; she automatically grips his shoulders to steady herself. A long, tense moment passes as he stares at her, unflinching. She knows she should unhand him, but her body refuses to respond. She is transfixed, like an animal that freezes in the presence of a predator that tracks by sight. His expression is unreadable, but she has the strangest impression that he is unhappy with her.

Well, why wouldn’t he be? Obviously she had impinged upon him. He invited her to brush his hair, after all, not _fondle_ him. What had she been _thinking_? She is about to apologize when a shout fills the room.

_“Rin!”_

The door flaps open and Kaede appears, sodden clothes dripping on the floorboards.

“Lady Kaede!” Rin jumps to her feet, but the crease in Kaede’s brow tells her that she saw enough, and the scene is scandalous: her young and innocent pupil hovering over a half-dressed demon, their faces inches apart in the firelight of an empty house. Rin resists the urge to groan and swears never to trust the universe again, as it certainly had a terrible sense of humor.

Rin scrambles for a spare blanket and throws it over Kaede’s shoulders. She leads the old woman to the fire and rubs her upper arms. They are spindly under her hands, and it is moments like this that she remembers just how old and frail Lady Kaede is despite her quick wit and no-nonsense personality. “Were you caught in the storm?”

“I was across the village tending to Fu’s broken ankle when the rain began. They implored me to stay the night, but I insisted on returning to the shrine.”

Rin sighs. “I wish you wouldn’t have walked through the rain, Lady Kaede. You might make yourself sick.” The conversation is like déjà vu, though this time the concern is more appropriately placed.

Kaede shrugs her off and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I am a healer, child. I can manage. Besides, I wanted to make sure ye were safe.” Rin doesn’t miss the look she gives the demon sitting across from her.

“I’m fine, Lady Kaede. You should know by now that Lord Sesshomaru will always protect me.”

“Hmm. Protect ye from what, I wonder.” The implication isn’t lost on Rin and it can’t be lost on Lord Sesshomaru either, but the he meets Kaede’s steady glare with indifference. The urge to explain and defend rises in Rin’s throat, but Kaede speaks first.

“What is this in your hair, child? Cinquefoil?”

“Oh!” Rin had almost forgotten. Her fingers automatically reach up to touch the soft petals at her ear. “No, it’s just a wildflower. I… found it this afternoon when we were looking for herbs.” Somehow it feels important to edge around the truth; it’s her secret, _their_ secret.

“Just this afternoon? It’s already so withered.”

She pulls the flower from behind her ear and brings it to her lap. She sees that Kaede is right. The golden bloom, so vibrant just hours ago, is already curling at the edges. One petal is bent back, probably a consequence of the quick transport from the storm. Her heart aches a little at the manifestation of the broken moment in her hands.

Her voice is wistful. “It was really beautiful, before.”

“I’m sure it was, child.” She lays a hand on Rin’s shoulder. “But ye know what I’ve told ye about picking wildflowers. They are best when left where they are. Things wilt and die when removed from their natural environments.”

Rin is old enough to know a warning when she hears it. She glares at Kaede, but Kaede has returned her steely gaze to Sesshomaru, who is studying the floorboards. His expression is remote, like he isn’t paying attention, like Kaede’s words are beneath his consideration. And maybe they are. After all, Lord Sesshomaru was never one to back down from a challenge, and he certainly wouldn’t stand to be intimidated by an old human woman.

Rin pointedly ignores the tick in his jaw and turns back to Kaede with a defeated sigh. “Please, Lady Kaede, you must go put on some dry clothes. I’ll make you some tea.”

The old woman rises and exits the room, and Rin busies herself with the tea pot. She tries to catch Sesshomaru’s eye, to send him a smile, or a look, or something to tell him _she doesn’t mean it_ or _it doesn’t matter what she thinks_ , but his eyes elude her. He’s so far away he may as well be on another planet.

They drink their tea in uncomfortable silence broken only by Rin’s miserable failed attempts at conversation. Kaede’s responses are clipped and Lord Sesshomaru doesn’t respond at all. He calmly sips his tea and continues to avoid her worried glances. Around them the storm rages. It is only when she bids him goodnight that he inclines his head in recognition.

When she wakes in the morning the sun has returned, but he is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaede, mood killer extraordinaire. Because apparently I can’t write anything sweet without throwing in some good old angst. Seriously, though, I don’t think Kaede hates Sesshomaru or anything, but I think she’s concerned about Rin the way a grandmother might. That, and I think she has a healthy respect for the dangers demons represent, considering the trials her sister suffered. 
> 
> I’m sorry about all the hair porn. I just have a fetish for Sesshomaru’s hair. I mean, come on, just look at it. I’m certain it accounts for half of his body weight. However, I promise not to torture you with any more of that in the next (and final) chapter. I will torture you with other things instead *insert evil laugh*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re clocking in at almost 12,000 words for this one, so settle in and hang on tight: it’s a roller coaster. Hopefully I didn’t jump the tracks. ;)

The look on your face yanks my neck on the chain

And I would do anything

_[I would do anything]_

To see you again

\- Neko Case, _Star Witness_

* * *

 

The days grow long and the sun grows hotter. Plentiful sunshine and good weather means more activity in the village and therefore more injuries to attend. Rin and Kaede have no shortage of patients during the summer months. Days blur together in a flurry of scraped knees, cuts, and summer sniffles. In the evenings Rin practically collapses onto her sleeping pallet, bones humming with the hard work of the day. But even on the days when she falls asleep before nightfall, if anyone asked she could report on the exact phase of the moon in the sky.

And yet, he doesn’t return.

Inuyasha says good riddance. Kaede keeps silent. Kagome tells her to be patient. Her heart tries not to despair.

She tries to take comfort in the fact that this is not the first time she has endured long stretches without him. What had she told Kaede? _Dependable, but not predictable._ Since she was a child she has never doubted Lord Sesshomaru – he always came through and he always knew what was best. It was a simple, unquestionable truth. It still is.

But what did he think was best, exactly?

The manner of his departure during his last visit concerned her, and she worried that she had somehow scared him away with her boldness. Or worse, that Kaede had scared him away with her thinly veiled warnings. It’s ridiculous, of course; Lord Sesshomaru isn’t frightened by anything, especially not human women. But he _is_ pragmatic. If the ends don’t justify the means, he won’t follow through. Her fear is that perhaps she isn’t worth all this trouble. Perhaps she never was. If so, what he thinks is best might mean being separated from him forever.

Her hope is a stubborn thing, though. She can’t quite let him go, not just yet. But her doubts only make the wait longer. And lonelier.

A boy from a neighboring village makes an honest effort to court her. He’s the son of a village elder and a respectable boy in his own right. His family makes a modest living through trade; he comes to the village every other week to barter bags of rice for potent herbs and rough spun silks for tallow. At first he has shy smiles for her, and then small gifts. He’s nice enough, and she’s certain that most would find him handsome in that dusty, sun-kissed sort of way.

Inuyasha says he’s a fine choice, though he squirms at the subject on principle. Kaede strategically compliments him over tea. Kagome tells her to follow her heart. Her heart tells her to keep one eye on the moon.

The days grow shorter and the first frost is only a few weeks away. Most of the seasonal harvest has been completed, and the villagers shift their attentions to preparing for the colder months. Fewer farming implements in use means fewer injuries, though the first of the season’s fevers start to appear at the door to shrine. The overall lull in patients means that she can spend her time preparing for what is normally her favorite time of year: the autumn harvest festival.

Even before the farming tools are put away and the crops stored for the winter, the village hosts an annual festival to give thanks for a bountiful harvest and have one last major trade before the weather turns and the roads become impassible. The village in which she lives is centrally located, and neighboring villagers from as far as fifty miles away cart their goods to her home to exchange supplies and engage in revelry. As a resident of the shrine, Rin does her part to make sure that the grounds are well-kept and the spiritual artifacts shine. She finishes a harvest of her own by helping Jinenji bring in the last of his herbs and setting them on massive racks for drying and preservation. Though she otherwise enjoys the company of Jinenji’s mother, this month she purposefully avoids her, not sure if she can emotionally endure her eager and unsolicited love stories about an injured human woman and a beautiful, seductive demon savior.

Festival goers arrive days before the event, carting in goods for sale or trade, and set up camp in the surrounding fields. The increased activity in the otherwise sleepy village carries the air of excitement, and for most part it is easy to get caught up in the restless energy. It’s an event that Rin usually prepares for with a song in her step, but this year her feet drag as she sets up long tables and hangs paper lanterns in the trees. She waves halfheartedly to the musicians who are tuning instruments in the shade of a tree.

She should be happy, but dark clouds hang over her heart. This year the festival will be held on the night before the new moon.

When Miroku and Sango arrive with their family she greets them with as much enthusiasm as she can muster, setting aside her own worries to greet some of her oldest friends. She is happy to see them; it’s been almost a year. She does her best, but it’s not enough: nothing escapes Miroku’s keen eye. There’s no way to explain it without being insulting _– your presence means his absence –_ so she hopes he won’t press the issue. And she isn’t really angry with them, it’s not their fault. Besides, the festival itself is a deterrent. So many humans in one place were bound to be an assault on Lord Sesshomaru’s senses. Still, it amounts to another month of watching and waiting for him to return.

If he decided to come back at all, that is. It’s becoming harder and harder to balance on the fine line between optimism and denial.

Because what if it wasn’t next month? Or the next? Would she really wait forever?

The automatic answer is _yes_. She is patient, and in the deep, hallowed spaces in her heart she knows that he is worth it. The real question, the one that she has been avoiding looking at too closely, is if she can bear to.

She is stuck: she can’t go on like this, but she can’t bear to give up, either.

The shrine is abuzz with activity throughout the day as people come to give thanks and ask for blessings. Once the first of the harvest has been set aside for the offering, the fields are alive with barter and exchange. By late afternoon all negotiations and spiritual matters have been satisfied, and people gravitate to the main fields, ready to celebrate.

And what a celebration it is. Music saturates the air as people laugh and fill plates from a table heaping with foods from all across the region. An enormous bowl of ramen attracts particular attention, and she smiles as Kagome waves off praise and glares at Inuyasha when he growls at a little girl for taking more than her fair share.

Rin takes her own food and settles on a nearby blanket where Sango is eating with the twins. Each time she sees them she is stunned by how they have grown; they are on the cusp of adulthood, lanky in their adolescence much like Kohaku was when they first met. The family resemblance is stronger with each passing year. When they excuse themselves to get seconds and say hello to old friends, Sango follows them with tender eyes.

An unbidden tightness forms in Rin’s chest. It’s not the scene itself, for it’s one she’s seen a hundred times on a hundred parent’s faces. She’s seen joy and relief spread across the features of mothers and fathers as she treats illnesses and bandages wounds, delivering positive prognoses, and fear and worry when the outlook is less certain. She’s watched eyes crinkle with laughter at silly games and brows furrow in disappointment at neglected chores. Even Rin hasn’t been immune to these expressions; she was on the receiving end of them as a child and now grants them as an adult. The village in which she has spent the past decade is like a sprawling extended family of which she is a part, and she has watched the children of fellow villagers grow and has felt vicarious pride in their accomplishments and sorrow in their failures. Until recently, she had not felt the pull to take a more active role, to claim part of that life as her own. But for some reason, seeing Sango look at her children with adoration makes her heart curl in on the edges.

By the time she was Rin’s age, Sango was married and started a family. Rin had been waiting patiently for years, but seeing this display reminds her that waiting comes at a cost. Possibilities and possible regrets swirl in her mind.

As is her habit, her mouth outpaces her sense and Rin blurts out the question tickling at the edges of consciousness. “Sango, do you like having a family?”

Sango gives her an incredulous look, and then laughs. “Of course! They can be a handful at times, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

It’s a silly question; she expected nothing less. She tries again. “I mean, what if you didn’t have a family? Do you think you would still be happy?”

Sango takes a sip of her tea. “I’m sure I would, it would just be in a different way. If I had to guess, I’d probably be spending my days slaying demons with Kohaku. If he would let me, that is.”

Rin catches the wistful look in her eye. “Do you ever miss being a demon slayer? You trained really hard for it.”

Sango blinks and points her chopsticks at Rin. “Hey, don’t discount me so easily! I still get out there and slay a few demons from time to time.”

“I’m sorry, Sango, I didn’t mean to imply – “

Sango cuts her off with a smile. “Don’t be silly. I’m only teasing you. The truth is, I could have done both. I still could, especially now that the kids aren’t so young. But this is what I wanted.”

“How did you know?”

She shrugs. “I just felt it.” Rin’s mind skips back to tea parties in the forest. _I just knew you’d come today, Lord Sesshomaru. I felt it._ Sango’s knowing eye catches hers before she can trail off into memory. “What brought all of this on, Rin?”

Rin averts her gaze and picks at her food. “Nothing. Sometimes I just wonder what my future will be like. Like maybe I’ll get married and have children, or maybe I’ll stay at the shrine and be a healer, or maybe“ - gold eyes framed in magenta flash in her mind – “or maybe something else.”

“Ah.” Sango finishes her tea, gathering her thoughts. “Well, I can tell you this. When I was your age, I never would have pictured this as my future. Back then, it was important for me to continue my family legacy. But then I met Miroku, and things just… changed. After we had travelled together for a while I just knew he was the one for me. It wasn’t planned, but I think it was fate.”

“…So you didn’t know what you wanted until you wanted it?”

Sango nods. “Something like that.”

She’s back to the same problem she started with. Even if Rin thinks she knows what she wants, she can’t exactly move forward on her own. “At least you didn’t have to figure it out by yourself though. I bet Miroku made his intentions pretty obvious. _And_ he’s persistent.” Sango’s eyes widen and Rin bites her lip. “I’ve overheard Inuyasha tell some stories…”

Sango just smiles, and her eyes track across the crowds to where Miroku stands, dancing to the music with their youngest. He holds both of her hands and swings them to and fro, all while the little girl squeals with laughter. Her pig-tails bounce as she jumps off-tempo with the music. Sango’s adoring smile returns. “You’d be surprised. With me, he wasn’t. He flirted with me, but he also flirted shamelessly with every other woman we came into contact with. It drove me crazy!” She chuckles and turns her attention back to Rin. “As it turns out, we both felt the same way, but it took a long time for either of us to admit it. When we did, it was a relief.”

Rin blows the bangs off her forehead in a huff. “I’ll bet.”

Sango’s eyes glitter, like she’s holding an important secret. “Listen, it’s different for everyone, but if you want my advice, I would say that honesty is the key to any relationship.” She leans in and playfully nudges Rin with an elbow. “Also, don’t forget to keep your options open. You might think you’re headed down one path, but if you keep your focus too narrow you’ll never see the others that are opening up right in front of you, and those paths can be very rewarding.”

The words escape before she can reel them back in. “You mean that I should forget about Lord Sesshomaru?” Rin cringes; she had only meant to talk _around_ the subject, not get to the heart of it.

But Sango doesn’t miss a beat. She reaches over and squeezes Rin’s hand. “Not at all. He’s very special to you and always will be. But that doesn’t mean he has to be the _only_ one that’s special to you.” Her eyes flick meaningfully to the left and Rin’s gaze follows.

Standing a few feet away and trying unsuccessfully to pretend like he hasn’t been listening to the conversation is Hikaru, the young man from the neighboring village who has been trying to get her attention over the past few months. Rin’s heart skips. Under the combined gaze of the two women Hikaru blushes and waves shyly. Sango waves him over before Rin can protest.

He bows at the waist. “Greetings, Lady Sango. Rin.” When he straightens he shuffles on his feet and focuses on the older woman. “My father sends his regards, Lady Sango. He’s grateful for the exorcism performed at my sister’s home last month. No demons have bothered them since.”

Sango stands and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it Hikaru. Give your family my regards as well.” She winks at Rin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go protect my youngest from the inevitable heartbreak that comes with falling for a lecherous monk. You two have fun!”

Rin stares wide-eyed after Sango, cursing her in her head. Unable to think of any reasonable excuse to escape, Rin motions for him to sit.

He accepts the offer, rubbing the back of his neck. “So…are you enjoying the festival, Rin?”

She glances at the rising sliver of the moon just at the edge of the horizon and swallows a sigh. “I suppose so. Are you?”

He nods. “It’s quite the turnout this year. I missed the festivities earlier today, though. I hope some of the merchants will still be around tomorrow.”

“I’m sure some of them will, but it tends to quiet down a lot after tonight. If you really want to make the best deals, you should be here a few days early.”

“I know. But it couldn’t be helped. It snowed in my village, so my trip here was delayed.”

This catches her by surprise. “Snow? Already?”

His disappointment is palpable. “Yeah. The winters are long in the mountains and the snow starts early… This might actually be the last time I see you for a while.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t considered this. She has gotten used to his visits and their little chats. Looks forward to them, even. The thought of another person disappearing from her life is almost too much to bear. “How long do you think it will be?”

“It’s different every year, but as soon as the snow starts travel becomes risky for a few months.” He waves his hands in front of him. “But don’t worry! I’ll be back after the first thaw!”

She gives him a weak smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

He looks away and fumbles in his pocket. “In the meantime, I, uh, brought you something to remember me by.” He flushes to the tips of his ears. “Put out your hand and close your eyes.”

She gives him a skeptical look but complies. She expects him to place something in her palm, but instead something cool and smooth glides over her hand and onto her wrist.

“Okay, open them.”

A bracelet of black beads shines darkly in the ambient light from the lanterns. He reaches out to carefully adjust it on her wrist while she admires it. “It’s obsidian. Sometimes my brother finds pockets of it when mining on the mountain. He helped me shape the stones.”

Her heart squeezes. Upon closer inspection, the beads aren’t quite round and they aren’t quite the same size, but it’s beautiful. It is a gift without obligation and crafted with personal care and love. “You made this? For me?”

He straightens with pride. “Sure did! I know I’m not an exactly an expert craftsman, but I thought – “

She throws her arms around him, cutting him off. “Thank you Hikaru. I love it.”

When she pulls back his face rivals the color of Inuyasha’s fire-rat. “You’re welcome, Rin. I’m glad you like it.”

She flushes and they both look away, focusing their attention on the space where the villagers dance. From the edge of the clearing Kagome emerges, dragging a reluctant Inuyasha by the wrist. He makes a show of being put out, and rolls his eyes when she settles her arms around his neck, sighing visibly as he puts his hands on her waist. They sway together under the soft light of the lanterns and stars, and Kagome practically glows with satisfaction. Whether the satisfaction comes from the act of dancing with her husband or getting her husband to acquiesce to dancing in the first place, Rin can’t be sure. Either way, she is obviously happy.

Hikaru’s voice breaks through her thoughts. “They sure do make an odd couple, don’t they?”

Rin braces herself for the inevitable comments about Kagome’s humanity and Inuyasha’s mixed heritage. She has heard it a thousand times before, and a thousand times she has defended them. The speech she normally gives and the indignation that goes with it simmer on the tip of her tongue. “What do you mean?”

Hikaru just shrugs. “Lady Kagome just seems so sweet and bubbly, and Master Inuyahsa is… well, a little rough around the edges.”

Rin’s anger deflates. “Oh. Well I think it’s sweet. They balance each other.”

“I suppose so.” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “My father always told me that opposites attract, but commonalities sustain.”

Rin bites her lip. “…Maybe so.”

The song ends and another begins, the tempo quick and insistent. Inuyasha tries to make his escape, but Kagome catches the edge of his sleeve. He gives her a long look while she pouts. Then he smirks. Without warning he pounces, catching her by the waist and hoisting her in the air, spinning as her surprised laughter echoes above the music. The scene would be romantic but for the packed dance floor; another partygoer nearby gets an inadvertent mouthful of white hair as it whips around them. The tension is broken as Rin and Hikaru laugh while Kagome tries to mediate between the disgruntled dancer and a huffy hanyou.

Shaking his head as his laughter subsides, Hikaru says, “That hair is something else. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

An image of long mercurial strands jumps into her mind, and she can practically feel it gliding through her fingers. Without thinking, she says, “You should see his brother’s.”

Hikaru’s eyebrows arch. “He has a brother?”

She nods dreamily, propping her chin on one hand. “Half-brother, actually. Lord Sesshomaru is a full demon.”

Hikaru eyes grow round and he blinks. “ _The_ Lord Sesshomaru? As in the Lord of the West? _That’s_ Master Inuyahsa’s brother?”

The dancer’s spin before her eyes, but she doesn’t really see them. Her vision is turned inward, to firelight and flowers and combs. She answers absentmindedly. “Mmhmm. The hair is the only real similarity, though. Their personalities are very different. Lord Sesshomaru is much more… elegant. Refined.”

Hikaru continues to stare at her. “What, have you met him or something?”

The question startles her out of her daydream and she searches the eyes of the young man next to her. She thinks he must be joking, but his expression is open and sincere.

 _He doesn’t know? How is that possible?_ She searches her memory and realizes with a start that their conversations up until now had veered away from her personal history. Any time he had asked about her family or childhood she had sidestepped the subject, redirecting and learning about his family instead. The people in her village might be well acquainted with her story, but Hikaru wasn’t _from_ this village. In all this time, how had she managed to avoid mentioning Lord Sesshomaru? More importantly, _why_? Normally she was proud to talk about him and their adventures together. Instead she feels reluctant, a little part of her worried how Hikaru will react to her answer. She wonders when that started to matter. She shifts her gaze to the ground. No matter what the reason, there was no avoiding it any longer. “Yes. I travelled with him when I was a child, in the years before Naraku was defeated.”

His jaw drops. “That’s incredible, Rin! I had always heard that he hated humans.”

She shifts uncomfortably. “He… does, actually. Sort of. For the most part.”

“Oh.” His face falls as he catches the look on her face. She can see him struggling to come up with a change of subject, and in doing so he stumbles on the only one that could possibly be worse. “That must have been really dangerous, travelling around back in those days. Didn’t your parents object?”

Her shoulders sag and she fiddles with the bracelet on her wrist. “My family was killed by bandits, and my village was decimated by wolves. I was all alone trying to fend for myself until I met Lord Sesshomaru.”

The remorse on his face is so genuine it hurts. A hand settles lightly on her knee. “I’m so sorry, Rin. I had always just assumed you had come here to train with Lady Kaede as an adult. I didn’t know…”

She cuts him off, not wanting to explain how she came to be here, not wanting to linger on this subject too long. She gazes at the couples swaying on the dance floor, and her lips quirk as she sees Sango swat Miroku’s wandering hand away with a smile. Hikaru sees it too and snatches his hand back.

Rin’s smile spreads in spite of herself. “It’s okay. I have a different kind of family now.”

And she does. Inuyasha and Kagome, Miroku and Sango, Kaede… even Kohaku and Shippo when they came to visit on rare occasion. All of these people love her in their own way, and they are her true family now.

Hikaru nods, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to puzzle it out. “…So, does that make Lord Sesshomaru kind of like your dad?”

She chokes. _“No!”_ At the look of surprise on his face she tries to regain her composure. She waves her hands in front of her. “I mean, no. He took care of me, and I guess he still feels responsible for me, but he’s _not_ my dad.”

“I see.” He strokes his chin. “But it would still probably be wise to get his approval if, say, someone wanted to court you. Or maybe even, you know, marry you…”

The image that appears in her head is so silly and absurd that she nearly laughs aloud: Lord Sesshomaru, imperious and devoid of expression, listening to some poor sap pour his heart out and beg for his approval, the deadpan look never slipping as he slowly draws Bakusaiga from his hip…

It’s almost funny - until she catches up and gets the implication. She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. No one is that brave.” _Or that stupid._

It certainly isn’t meant to be a challenge, but Hikaru seems to take it as one. He sits a little straighter. “Is he here? I’d love to meet him.”

“Hikaru…”

“What? I – I like you Rin. A lot. And I’d like to think that you like me too. Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

The bold declaration almost renders her speechless, but she manages to stammer out a reply. “It - It’s more complicated than that – “

“How? What more should there be?”

He makes it sound so simple: if people care about each other they should be together, and that’s all there is to it. His sentiments echo her own thoughts from not so long ago, and she hates him for it just a little, for being so innocent and naïve. But more than that she hates herself a little for still being unable to let go and move on. She _liked_ Hikaru, it was true. But…

Her hand finds his arm. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.” She cringes at her own words. “After all, we’ll have plenty of time to keep getting to know each other in the spring.”

He deflates but seems mollified, for now. He picks at a loose thread near his ankle. “Okay. I’d still like to meet him though, just because he seems important to you.”

A sad laugh escapes from her lips. “Careful what you wish for.” Then she sighs. “Believe me, you’d know him if you saw him; he stands out in a crowd. But he isn’t here. And he won’t be.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. Maybe next time.” _Maybe next time._ The words cut deep, but are mitigated by his dazzling smile. “In the meantime, would you like to dance?”

She almost says no, resigned to sit on the sidelines and wallow in her own self-pity, but the look in his eyes is enough to give her pause. He just looks so hopeful, so _happy._ She can remember a time when she felt the same way: enthusiastic, optimistic, enjoying the present for what it was. For months she has been stuck in an uncertain future while the days blur past, unnoticed. A touch of rebellion rises within her. Why shouldn’t she have a little fun? For months now the new moon had brought her nothing but misery, so why shouldn’t this one be enjoyable for once? She was so tired of living in in-betweens, in almosts and maybes. For tonight, maybe she could live in the now.

He offers his hand and she takes it. The callouses on his fingers are rough and his grip is strong. For all of his awkward shyness, his steps are confident as he leads her to the open space. His intentions are clear – isn’t _that_ refreshing – and he isn’t ready to give up on her just yet. Her earlier conversation with Sango rings in her head and she smiles.

They find a spot between the other dancers and he doesn’t hesitate to pull her in close. The music is lively and he spins her around, comfortable in touching her and being touched. The open expression of joy on his face warms her heart and there is something freeing about knowing exactly what he wants. She smiles right back, tension melting away. Despite herself, she is having fun. When he dips her, she laughs loud and long, and it strikes her that she hasn’t done so in a long time.

So they dance. And laugh. The stars come out and so do the barrels of sake. They toast to their good health and watch the other festival goers enjoy themselves. Kagome drags Inuyasha out for one last dance and he humors her yet again. At the end, when he thinks no one is looking, he tugs her by the waist to plant a quick kiss on her temple. Rin smiles. Rough around the edges, yes, but there’s a softness underneath. Maybe that was the human in him. Maybe a little humanity was what she needed too.

At the end of the night she collapses onto her sleeping pallet as always, exhausted but for an entirely different reason. This time the hum in her bones is from laughter and excitement, not worry and fatigue. It feels good.

She changes into her sleeping robes and giggles when she recalls the way Hikaru had dipped to kiss her hand before bidding her goodnight, with a wink and a promise to see her again in the spring. She almost declares the night an unexpected success when she reaches for her comb.

Her smile vanishes at the sight of it, recalling dappled forest sunshine and golden firelight and long silver strands. It recalls soft hands and stuttered breath and flowers the color of his eyes.

What was she _thinking?_

The evening’s events play back in her mind and she mourns, because it had been so much fun, so freeing. But one night of fun doesn’t erase months of anguish, and one kind young man doesn’t replace years of longing. The thought is both logical and terrifying, because it begs the question: what _would_ it take? If not one night, then ten? A Hundred? A lifetime? What would be enough?

A familiar fear rises from the depths, a deep-seated worry that the earliest years of her life had set the tone for decades to come, that those years had ruined her somehow. That all of the excitement of her life was bundled and crammed into a childhood that is blurring at the edges of memory a little more with each day, leaving a hollow feeling deep in her bones. Approaching a beautiful wounded demon in the woods had changed her life, but it’s getting harder and harder to believe that it was for the better.

Because what could possibly compare? _Who_ could compare? For all his charms, Hikaru – or a hundred other boys just like him – suffered from the same affliction that she did: they were human. Fragile, corruptible, mortal. Ordinary. She had been touched by the extraordinary, overcome the impossible. While she might enjoy the company of others and find love and happiness elsewhere, it would never quell the feeling that something was missing, something exciting and alluring and daring.

As if to reinforce this, a sing-song voice in the back of her head calls out - her own voice from a childhood spent around a fire with a dog and a dragon and a toad - _Lord Sesshomaru isn’t gone, he’s simply late._

She can’t shake it. One evening of fun – or a thousand – wouldn’t change this, wouldn’t smother the hope or the desire in heart. It’s still as true now as it was then. She hugs the comb to her chest and feels ashamed for doubting it. Until she knows differently – until he _tells_ her differently – that truth would remain. She could wait a little longer.

After all, he would have to come back before spring, right?

_Right?_

She crawls into bed and pulls the covers up around her chin to protect against the chill of autumn, falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The forest is illuminated with soft golden sunlight, birds tittering high above her in the trees. The path before her is well-worn and she follows it idly, humming to pass the time. _It’s peaceful here,_ she thinks. _Familiar, welcoming._ Her steps are unhurried and her mind is uncluttered. She knows this path, she could walk it forever.

She follows it as it arcs, hypnotized by the dancing shadows cast by the leaves. As she rounds the bend the path abruptly splits, branching off like the crooked limbs of her favorite tree in Inuyasha’s forest. Her feet stutter to a stop. This doesn’t seem right. The paths don’t _look_ different from one another, but she has the disquieting feeling that there’s only one correct choice. She squints, trying to see farther, but without success.

A streak of white and silver flashes in the corner of her vision, and her head whips to the right.

She puts a hand up to shield her eyes, and squints harder. _There._ A familiar figure stands far down the path to the right, statuesque and brilliant against the backdrop of the forest. Her heart leaps and she calls out to him.

_Lord Sesshomaru!_

He sees her, she knows it. But instead of approaching her he turns away, hair streaming behind him as he walks farther and farther ahead. She chases him on child’s legs, but his strides are too long, his pace too brisk.

_Wait! Wait for me!_

The words burn in her throat, but he doesn’t seem to hear. She tries to speed up but heavy chains with round black links appear at her ankles, restricting her steps. When she turns to tear them away Sango’s twins are gripping the ends, grotesque grins marring their faces. She shouts at them to release her, but they hold fast.

In her struggle she doesn’t notice Kaede approach, a basket full of golden blooms in her arms. She tucks wilting flowers into Rin’s hair, but they _can’t_ be flowers, they are much too heavy, and she collapses to her knees as the weight of them becomes too much to bear. She pleads for Kaede to stop, but the basket is bottomless and she continues to pile them on as though she doesn’t hear. Just as she thinks she will be crushed beneath them she calls out one last time for help – because he always comes when he needs her, _always_ – and she is relieved when he finally turns.

His eyes are ancient in their disappointment and disgust. There is a sneer in his voice when he says her name.

_Rin._

She wants to explain but her words catch in her throat. No, not her _words_. She chokes, mouth filling with something thick and knotted. She forces a hand to her mouth and horror descends as long silver strands come spilling out, endless, suffocating –

“Rin.”

She blinks awake, inhaling sharply. Her heart is galloping wildly as her eyes try and fail to scan the darkness. There is a moment of disorientation before she gropes around and feels the familiar scratchy warmth of her blankets. Relief floods her.

She runs a shaking hand over her face and rolls over. It was just a dream.

And then a floorboard creaks.

Adrenaline floods her veins and she is instantly wide awake. She sits up with a jolt, the blankets falling away to pool at her waist. Her eyes dart in the darkness but see nothing.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” When she speaks, she hates that her whispered voice wavers. She was taught to be braver than this.

A heartbeat passes, then two. She feels ridiculous; the hut was old, the wood was settling. It was just the dream making her jittery.

She almost lays back down when a soft, eerie green glow appears from the corner of the room. Instinctively she scoots backward, but her scampering slows as it brightens to reveal the gleaming tips of two sharp claws. And a striped wrist. And golden eyes, which are fixed on the wall to her left.

Her heart skips again, but not with fear. “…Lord Sesshomaru? Is that really you?”

A twitch of his brow suggests that he is confused by the question, or annoyed. And really, he should be. No other creature on earth could possibly be mistaken for him. A part of her wants to crawl toward him in excitement, but the cobwebs of her dream give her pause. Perhaps she was still dreaming; after all this was far outside the realm of propriety and therefore completely unlike him. She decides to proceed with caution.

Tentatively, she asks, “What are you doing here, my lord? It’s the middle of the night. Is something wrong?”

He ignores her question, his eyes flicking in her direction before skipping away again. “Rin. Get dressed and meet me outside.”

A quick glance downward reveals that the collar of her sleeping robe has shifted in her sleep and is sliding dangerously off one shoulder. Her hand flies up to clutch it closed. _Nope, not a dream at all._ The embarrassment she feels is _definitely_ real. She adds it to a long list of conflicting and overwhelming emotions as she steadily realizes that her dreams – the good ones, at least – have come true. He is _here_.

She gathers her wits and bobs her head. “Yes, my lord! Just give me a few moments.”

The glow is snuffed out and he sweeps out of the room with exaggerated haste. As soon as he exits she flings back the blankets, scrambling to light a candle. Once she can see again she changes into something suitable and quickly runs her comb through her hair. Now that he is finally here, she doesn’t want to have him out of her sight for any longer than she has to, lest he disappear. She has so many questions, so many conflicting thoughts. She tries to step lightly on the way to the door, not wanting to wake Kaede.

When she exits the hut he is standing in the courtyard of the shrine, stark white and silver catching the barest hints of light reflected from the sliver of moon in the sky. His gaze is direct now and he watches her unwaveringly as she approaches. When she is only steps away he extends one clawed hand.

“Come.”

Her breath catches and her steps falter. They were going somewhere? _Now?_ Everything about this is strange: he disappears for months without a word, only to reappear in her bedroom in the middle of the night to whisk her away to some undisclosed location. The unexplained urgency is unnerving. _What could be so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?_

He seems to sense her concern and repeats himself. “Come, Rin. We’re leaving.”

 _Leaving?_ The word ricochets in her sleep-addled brain. They were leaving. Together. Could this be it? Could this be the invitation she had been waiting for? It’s a stretch, but the spark of hope she has carried for all these years ignites once more and consumes any doubts that dare come near. They were _leaving_.

_Finally._

Dimly she wonders if she needs to bring anything with her. It wouldn’t alter her choice, but her heart aches a little at the timing. She might have liked to say goodbye to her friends. She worries her bottom lip in her teeth at the thought of Lady Kaede waking up to discover her missing. Who would gather the firewood? Who would do the laundry and hunt for herbs and –

The shadow of a frown crosses his features and his hand retracts, just a little. “You are hesitant.”

“No, it’s just that…”

His eyes narrow. For a long moment she holds her breath; he looked _angry_ with her. But when he blinks it falls away and his eyes focus on the hut behind her. When he speaks his voice is flat. “Return to bed. Forget I was here.”

With that he turns on his heel and strides toward the torii arch and she barely resists shouting for him to wait, lest she wake the entire village. The scenes from her dream flash in her mind and she sprints after him. When the edge of his sleeve is within reach she doesn’t hesitate; she grabs it in a panicked fist.

“No!” Her whisper is harsh and desperate. “No. Please, my lord. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He considers her for a long moment and she is convinced he is going to yank his sleeve from her fist and disappear into the night. To her relief he simply nods once and, without another word, he stoops and scoops her up into one arm, clutching her as he did all those months ago when they escaped a spring storm. His body tenses and then they spring into the night air.

The temperature drops as they gain altitude and she burrows into the fur at his shoulder. Though she can’t see it, she knows that the village is fading into the distance behind her. She resists the temptation to look back. A part of her feels guilty, but she knows that Inuyasha and Kagome will take good care of Kaede in her absence. Her heart aches at the thought of them. Ultimately, she should be grateful that they are leaving while the village sleeps; goodbyes would have been too painful. Even still, she doesn’t allow herself to have any regrets. This is what she has wanted and waited for all these long years. The village was her home and the people there are her family, but _this_ is the future she has dreamed of ever since she had arrived. _This_ is her path. She is sure of it.

A sense of calm resolve settles over her as she twines her fingers into his pelt and scans the horizon. Night veils the landscape, but that doesn’t mean it lacks for scenery; laid out before them is an endless blanket of stars. The weightless sliver of a crescent moon hangs in the southern sky. The sight is surreal, but she shouldn’t be surprised. Surreal has come to define all of her most recent meetings with him.

She tears her eyes away to glance at his face. She leans in a little closer, even though she doesn’t need to. “Where are we going, my lord?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon. She can’t help but wonder how long they will travel, or where they will land, but these thoughts have no urgency. In the end it doesn’t matter, they are together. Now and forever. As it should be. She snuggles closer and closes her eyes, drifting off in the warmth of his arms.

She jerks awake as she feels their quick descent and the bunching of his muscles as he makes a smooth landing. _They were stopping already?_ How long had she been asleep? It couldn’t have been _that_ long; the land was still cloaked in darkness. Surely he wasn’t tired yet. Something wasn’t right.

Without hesitation he carefully sets her down and steps back a few paces. The side of her body that was pressed against him reacts to the absence of his warmth and she hugs her arms. She twists around to inspect her surroundings and recognition slams into her. “…The forest grove?”

Though night has cast the clearing into shadow, it is indeed the sacred space she so adores. The wildflowers are fewer now as the season comes to a close, but the vines and greenery still cling tenaciously to the old stumps and bark. Beyond the tree line the shadows condense into blackness, obscuring the surrounding forest. Without the buzzing insects and bright sunlight the clearing takes on an ominous quality, but not one without its own special beauty. Memories from her last visit here bubble to the surface, but before she can indulge in them he speaks.

“You said that this was our secret. No one will disturb us here.”

 _Disturb_ them? Just what were they _doing_ out here that required such privacy? If it were any other day under any other circumstance, the wicked part of her brain might have conjured up the list of a thousand and one things, making her go cross-eyed. But not now.

Her voice is hesitant. “I don’t understand. I thought you said we were leaving.”

“And now we are here.”

He offers no further explanation, just regards her with cool silence. Her heart sinks. _This_ was it? _This_ was the end of the line?

“What are we doing out here, my lord?”

“I have questions that require answers.”

She echoes him, dumbfounded. “You have...questions.” Here he stands, as though it isn’t the middle of the night, as though he hasn’t been gone for months, as though everything is perfectly fine. But it isn’t fine. Not at all.

Suddenly the darkness and his distance conjure up all the doubts that she has carried. She tries to swallow them, but they are as corrosive as his poison, weakening her hope and souring her mood. The disappointment and the waiting and the confusion build up and explode in a single, loaded question of her own.

“Where have you _been_ , Lord Sesshomaru?”

It hangs there in the space between them. It’s a question she had asked a thousand times before in her youth, but never with such desperation. And there is something else there too. The trace of venom in her voice surprises her, and him as well, as evidenced by the upward tick in his brow. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but perhaps the smallest, most secret parts of her heart were angry with him. Angry that he would put her though all of this after the faith and dedication she had bestowed upon him since they met. The concept is so foreign to her that she is taken aback. She had thought that when he finally returned she would be overjoyed to see him, and part of her is. But that doesn’t erase the past few months of agony.

She wrings her hands, trying to correct her tone. “It’s just that it’s been so long. I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t return.”

He frowns. “Why would I not return?”

She looks at the ground, at the grasses which would soon turn brown fade away. _Because you didn’t want me_ , her mind whispers. _Because Inuyasha was right and you had forgotten me._ This is the truth, but it won’t pass her lips. Besides, if he had forgotten her, he wouldn’t be here right now. She hedges. “Because Lady Kaede was unkind to you during your last visit.”

His nose tilts into the air. “Hn. This Sesshomaru is not cowed by the prattling of an old woman.”

His lapse into third person and the change in his demeanor tell her all she needs to know: she has insulted him. She might be confused and sad and angry, but that little speck of hope still persists and she has no desire to alienate him. “Of course not.” She takes a hesitant step forward. “Lord Sesshomaru, about what Lady Kaede said – “

“Have you been well, Rin?” She halts, thrown by the sudden change in subject. And small talk, at that. Something was definitely off. She is beginning to reevaluate the possibility that this is a dream after all. She tries to catch his eye, to read his expression, but he studies the inky forest beyond.

“…Um, I’ve been busy, I suppose. Plenty of farming injuries and illnesses as the seasons change.”

He doesn’t respond right away; he raises a hand and gracefully flicks a stray piece of hair behind his shoulder. “Your training is progressing?”

“I- I think so. Lady Kaede seems pleased.”

Everything about this conversation is bizarre; he cannot possibly have dragged her out of bed and flown her miles away from the village for _this._

His hand comes up and he casually inspects his claws. “I wouldn’t suppose you’ve had time to make any new friends, then.”

On the surface, the words themselves are harmless, just idle prattle. Coming from anyone else they would be inconsequential. But the posturing is just a little too much, and there is a hint of steely restraint in his voice. His refocuses his attention on her, and the look he gives her is pointed. Too late, she catches on.

The bracelet she forgot to remove before bed hangs heavy on her wrist and she resists the urge to cover it with her hand.

She doesn’t know how, but he _knows_.

Her first reaction is to be ashamed, to feel guilty that she would betray him. But then defiance rises within her, hot and insistent. It dwarfs the spark of hope and burns caustically in her chest.

 _This_ is what he wanted to talk about? Her _social life_? Well, he had _no right_ to judge her. If he had wanted her, she had been here all along, waiting. _Pining._ But he hadn’t. No matter how much she had built up their future in her mind, at present there was nothing to betray. Somehow, this fact is the most painful of all.

She feels tricked. Here he had led her to believe… but no, that wasn’t true, was it? _He_ hadn’t made her believe anything at all. And she knew it. He really _was_ just a blank slate that she had been projecting all of her hopes and dreams on for years. How long had she convinced herself that she could read him when really she was just filling in the spaces with what she wanted to see? Enough is enough.

The wicked part of her roars to life, the part that wants to punish him for his absence, for making her feel so utterly _pathetic._ She straightens her spine. “As a matter of fact I have. There’s a young man that comes to the village to trade goods. He’s the son of a village elder and a respected member of the community. He visits _regularly_ and is very kind.”

If her words are meant to impress him, they fail spectacularly. “How nice for him,” he drawls.

Under her long sleeves her hands ball into fists. “No, how nice for _me_.” It’s all coming out now, and she is powerless to stop it. “He’s nice and he likes to talk to me and he brings me little gifts! He’s a good person and he makes me laugh and – “

“He is special to you.”

The words, soft and matter of fact, ping against her subconscious, but she has built up so much momentum that she bulldozes right past them. “What would it matter if he were?” She plows forward, digging deeper. “Some people are even hoping that I’ll marry him.”

This gets his attention; his eyes narrow into slits. “Who thinks this?”

His reaction fuels her. “Oh, he’s dropped a hint or two, but he’s not the only one.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “There’s my neighbors, as well as Lady Kaede, Master Inuyasha – “

 _“Inuyasha,”_ he growls, fingers reaching for Bakusaiga.

It’s a mockery of the scene she envisioned when she was talking with Hikaru earlier that evening, but this time it isn’t funny. It’s _infuriating._ She stomps her foot. “This isn’t about him!”

“No?” He challenges. “Then tell me, what it is this about?”

“It’s about _you!_ ”

Her shout echoes in the clearing and she instantly wishes she could pull the words back. This is a disaster. For months all she could do was dream of seeing him again, to reconcile any misunderstandings and convince him to invite her along on his travels. Instead, she insulted him and tried to invoke petty jealousies to hurt him. She isn’t sure what’s worse: that she stooped that low or that the tactics didn’t even _work._

Defeated, the anger drains from her, leaving her tired and hollow. She has been walking this path for so long, waiting for the final barrier to be lifted. Instead of removing it, she has fortified it. If he ever needed a reason to wash his hands of her, she has just given him several.

But he doesn’t rage or disappear into the night as she expects. Instead, his hand falls back to his side and his brow creases. “Enlighten me.”

 _Enlighten_ him? Where to even begin? How could she possibly summarize all of her pain and longing and indecision? _I miss you and I want you but you’ve been nowhere to be found. I want to love you but loving you hurts. You can’t blame me for this. You can’t._

It’s on the tip of her tongue to say it, but she has the distinct impression that he won’t understand. Worse, that he wouldn’t care. She sighs. “I’ve just been really unhappy these last few months, my lord. Maybe I’m just lonely.”

He seems to ignore the fact that she doesn’t directly address her outburst. There is a spark of interest in his eyes. “Life in the village doesn’t suit you?”

“It’s not that, exactly. It’s a nice place to live, and I’m grateful that I have friends and family who love me.”

Too late she realizes that she has absentmindedly begun to toy with the bracelet on her wrist. She tries to shove her hands behind her back but not fast enough; he sees it. The spark is extinguished and his expression flattens once more. “And now you have one more.”

She opens her mouth to defend herself; she wants to tell him that it makes no difference how many people in the world love her if he doesn’t, but before she can he shrugs elegantly and pulls a small parcel out of his sleeve.

“Perhaps it will not interest you now,” he says as his eyes flick to her wrist, “but I have a _‘little gift’_ for you as well.”

He steps just close enough to fully extend his arm to put the offering within her reach, the dim light sparking off the tips of his claws. In his palm rests a small package wrapped in smooth silk and tied with a familiar ribbon. It is too small to be an item of clothing and too oddly shaped to be another dreaded text on herbal remedies. Curiosity overwhelms her, but her hand still stutters on the way to retrieve it from him.

She holds the package lightly in her hands, baffled. Why he would offer her a gift after she had just finished yelling at him is a mystery. The pesky voice pipes up: _not predictable, but dependable. He never comes empty-handed._

The whispered response is automatic. “Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru.”

He hums low in his throat and steps back. She shuffles on her feet. After a few beats his eyes flick to the parcel she is holding dumbly in her hands, and it becomes obvious that he wants her to open it. Cautiously, she tugs at the ribbon, causing the silk to whisper away and her breath to catch.

In her palm is an elaborately enameled hair comb fashioned in the shape of a single, perfect lily. The insides of the fragile white petals are brushed with magenta accents and tiny jade beads accentuate the tips of the stamen. A few strings of luminescent pearls drip from the bottom. Even in the dim light she can tell that it is a magnificent piece of craftsmanship.

The irritating voice in the back of her head that normally whispers _ward of the West_ is silent. This is not like any other gift she has received from him; it is not a valuable but practical thing ‘befitting her station,’ as he had said. This isn’t designed to clothe or educate her, it is meant to _adorn_ her. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she dares to hope, but they begin to fall in earnest when she realizes just what it is that she holds in her hands.

It’s the last gift he’ll ever give her.

Because she knows, deep down, that whatever she had been trying so long and so carefully to cultivate is dead on the vine. She has ruined it, blighted it with her anger and resentment. Valid as her feelings might have been, there were better ways to express them. The situation was past the point of redemption, and as much as she pushed his boundaries in the past, even he had his limits. He wasn’t feared throughout the country for being a benevolent, forgiving demon. This was it.

His voice breaks through her thoughts. “You are sad. I thought that flowers pleased you.”

Real concern is visible on his face, and she would laugh if the irony wasn’t so painful. “No. I mean, yes, I’m sad, but not because of this. Not really. And I love flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one this beautiful and it’s left me speechless.” She gives him a broken smile and wipes away her tears with the knuckle of one hand. She bows low. “Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru. You honor me.”

When she rises he has stepped closer, and with one hand he gestures for the comb, which she offers him mutely. He steps around her and his claws carefully skim her temple as he gathers her hair behind one ear, securing it with the comb. The gentleness of his touch after everything that has happened is enough to make her throat start to close up again, but she cuts it off with a deep breath. The comb glides into place, pearls dancing against her ear with the slightest movement of her head. He steps back and returns to her line of sight.

She can barely stand to meet his eyes, but when she does she would swear that he isn’t just regarding her or studying her, he is _admiring_ her. Then something pained flickers across his features and his expression shutters once more. He extends his hand.

“Come. Dawn approaches. I will take you home to the village.”

Home.

To the village.

No.

_No._

If the idea that he would leave was painful, the reality of it is infinitely worse. Memories flood her: traveling with him, spending time with him, caring for him. _Touching_ him. The realities, the almosts, the maybes. And now the nevers. It’s too much.

Desperation claws at her chest. He can’t take her back. There has to be a way to fix this. This can’t be goodbye. Not yet.

She takes a step back, panicked eyes flitting around the dark forest, pearls lightly smacking against her cheek, as though the answer to her problem lies in the shadows of the trees. Where was the magic of this place now that she truly needed it? If only –

A spot of white catches her eye. She knows what she has to do.

She ignores his outstretched hand and dashes past him to the edge of the clearing where tangled vines curl and climb against the base of an old oak. Pure white blooms as large as her fist bask in the dim glow of night. With deft fingers she plucks one and races back, where he has turned to watch her.

She stops in front of him and gathers her courage. Then, with speed even he would have to admire, her hand darts up and tucks the flower behind his left ear. He makes no move to stop her, stock still and eyes intent. As soon as it is secured she snatches her hand back and gives him a brittle smile.

“There! Don’t you see, Lord Sesshomaru? We match.”

He doesn’t return the smile, which is within her expectations. What she does not expect is for him to crease his brow and shut his eyes before turning a half step away. With growing horror she watches as he reaches up and removes the flower from his hair and pinches the stem lightly between his claws. The only thing worse than the silence that stretches between them is the statement that breaks it.

“No, Rin. We do not.”

The words pierce her chest and cleave her heart in two.

“My lord, please – “

He cuts her off. His voice is whisper-soft and edged with steel. He gestures at the bloom still trapped in his claws. “You should not have done this. You have hastened its demise.”

She doesn’t understand. “…My lord, it’s a moonflower. They bloom for only one night and then die. In a few hours it would have been gone.”

This is the wrong thing to say. His grip tightens and he still won’t look at her, his eyes fixed on the fragile petals. Time seems to slow down as the flowers tips out of his hand, tumbling over itself before landing at his feet. “All the more reason to leave it where it belonged.”

Kaede’s words echo in her mind and suddenly the situation is crystal clear. She had been right all along. He _is_ saying goodbye, but for all the wrong reasons. The fissures in her heart widen and crumble at the edges. His decision has been made.

He is leaving her where she belongs. With a closet full of empty kimonos and a flower that will never die.

Indignation swells within her. He’s _wrong_. She has always trusted him to do what is best, but she knows deep down in her bones that this time he has made a mistake. He can’t do this to her. He _can’t_.

“My lord, you don’t understand – “

“There is nothing to understand. Come. We’re leaving.” Again he offers his hand, with more impatience this time.

She pleads at him with her eyes, but he is made of stone. With reluctant steps she approaches. He crouches and lifts her into his arms. For the briefest moment he hesitates, his gaze fixed on the stars above. She can feel his chest expand as he draws air deep into his lungs, letting it out in a long, slow breath.

She wants to grab him by his pointed ears and force him to hear her out. She wants him to understand what it will mean to live out her years without him, what it’s meant to have him near, but she knows he won’t listen. Then it dawns on her: where words fail, action succeeds. _Show_ him -

The impulse is hot and quick and reckless; she cups one hand on the side of his face and pulls him to her, planting a desperate, lingering kiss between the magenta stripes on his cheek.

She lands on her tailbone with a thump. Of all the reactions she might have anticipated, she never expected him to _drop_ her. Humiliation blooms hot beneath her skin. The discarded moonflower glares bright and mocking a few feet from his black boots, blurring a little in her vision. This is as far as her eyes dare travel; she cannot possibly look at him, not now. Not even the insects dare to sing as the moment stretches out.

Her intentions were obvious, and so is his rejection. At least now she knew now without a doubt. Her waiting was over, but the real loss had just begun. He’s been a part of her life for so long now, she isn’t sure what it will be like without him.

She is torn between wanting him to speak and terrified of what he will say when he does. She expects him to rage at her impertinence or mock her for her pitiful and unwelcome affections. So it is a surprise when he responds in a voice laced with confusion.

"You are afraid."

She gathers her feet under her, sitting back on her heels. To an outside observer, it might look as if she is kneeling in contrition. She swallows and nods. "Yes."

From above her, his voice comes across as thin and wary. "You have never been afraid of me before."

The immortal flower in her hair hangs heavy, the pearls scraping against her skin as she hangs her head. "I'm not afraid of you, my lord. I'm afraid of what you'll do."

Without preamble he drops to the ground, his clothes and hair billowing out and rustling softly in their descent. His posture mimics hers, his hands resting lightly on his knees.

“Explain.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Her eyes are fixed on her hands as they twist in her lap. “I’m sorry, Lord Sesshomaru. I shouldn’t have done that. “

Long fingers come into view, hovering for an instant before settling lightly over hers. “Explain why you are afraid.”

Her eyes find his, they are gentle and probing. She tries to control the trembling in her lip. It takes all of her courage, but she holds his gaze. “I’m afraid you’ll leave me in the village and never come back.”

He recoils, confused. “You said that life in the village suits you. You do not wish to remain there?”

She shakes her head softly. “No, my lord. The villagers are kind, and I have enjoyed training with Kaede. Kagome and Inuyasha have welcomed me as part of their family, and for that I am grateful. But it’s not how I would want to spend my life, if I had a choice.” She takes another deep breath. This was it, she had his attention and this was her last chance. Time to take Sango’s advice and be honest. “As a child I was convinced that we would always be together. As a woman, that hasn’t changed.”

“You would have the chance at a normal life, with others like you.” His eyes dart to the black beads at her wrist, and his fingers curl into fists on his knees. He closes his eyes and exhales heavily. “You would be safe.”

She leans around him, retrieves the flower that he dropped. The petals soak up the moonlight as she spins it in her fingers. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t be happy. What Kaede said was true. Some things do suffer when taken out of their natural environments. But my place is not with the villagers. It’s with you. And without you, I wilt just like these flowers.”

Steeling her spine, she reaches out and tucks the flower behind his ear as she had done once before. He lets her. She adjusts it to her liking, and as she withdraws her hand she lets a finger ghost along one bright stripe. She returns her gaze to her lap and studies her hands, smiling sadly. “I just want to be with you, Lord Sesshomaru. No matter where you go. That’s all.”

Clawed fingers appear at her chin, gripping it gently and forcing her eyes to his. He leans in, eyes searching hers, golden irises practically glowing in the depths of the darkness. “This is what you want?”

She would not look away even if she could. “It’s not all that I want, but it would be enough.”

His next words are careful, measured. “What else do you want?”

Her eyes involuntarily flick down to his lips, and for once subtlety is not lost on him. With aching slowness he leans in, closing the distance between them. His mouth is soft and warm on hers and for a moment she is paralyzed. How many years had she dreamt of this moment? How many nights had she agonized and hoped and yearned for him? Finally her maybes had turned into realities.

It’s over too fast for her to react. He withdraws and she blinks at him, too stunned to react. His eyes skip to the side. “Forgive me. I may have misinterpreted – “

She springs into action, her hands threading in his hair and mouth pressing against his, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He responds in kind, one hand appearing at her jawline and the other snaking around her waist. The gentleness begins to recede, hinting at something feral and wanting just below the surface, restrained but only just.

With a rumbling in his throat he pulls away but his hand remains, thumb stroking her cheek and disturbing the strands of pearls. There is a solid attempt to school his features, but his eyes remain molten as he clears his throat.

“It would please me for you to resume your travels with me, if that is your desire.”

She smiles and sags against him, hugging him tightly while careful not to make contact with the spikes at his chest. Her body feels light, as though she has finally been able to set down a heavy load. Her hands absentmindedly stroke the hair at his back, and it feels so right beneath her fingers. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you to say that.”

Strong arms twine around her, gathering her into his lap and securing her against his chest. He murmurs into her hair. “I assure you, I have been waiting even longer for you to ask.”

For an instant her heart stops and the blood stills in her veins. _“What?”_ She jerks back to look him in the eye. “ _You’ve_ been waiting for _me?_ To _ask?!_ ”

He tilts his head. “Of course. It has always been your choice. I have simply been waiting for you to make it.”

She gives him a long, blank look.

Then she tilts her head back and laughs. What else can she do? _All this time, it was up to me…_

When her giggles subside she gives him a wry look. “I wish you would have told me that a long time ago, Lord Sesshomaru. It would have saved both of us a lot of trouble!”

The corner of his mouth twitches into the smallest of smiles. Behind him, the sun dawns bright over a new day.

“Hn. Indeed.”

He leans back in, and together they make up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the ride’s over. Hope you enjoyed it! As I said before, this started out really short, just a quick little story about Rin helping Sesshomaru get a knot out of his impossibly long hair. Short and sweet. But then the angst monster grabbed a hold and turned it into a story of the knots that we tie ourselves up in, many of which are caused by needless worry and miscommunication. And boy, do these two have some communication deficits (with 85% of the blame for that going to Sesshomaru). The moral of this story (if there is one) really comes from Sango: strong communication and honesty are the keys to any successful relationship. 
> 
> The last part of this story was particularly hard to write, because Rin and Sesshomaru are really having two different conversations without knowing it. As an aside, Sesshomaru is really hard to write in general. I tried to keep him as in-character as possible, but it’s hard to strike a balance between imperious sass, incredible denial, and parsimony all wrapped in a thick shell of imperviousness and recalcitrance. There’s emotion under there, but, with the exception of anger, the expression of it is muted at best. This was really my first real stab at writing anything semi-lengthy with these two, so hopefully it wasn’t a complete mess. 
> 
> Also, I NEVER write happy endings. Ask my Zutara readers. It’s always angst and longing and regret and missed opportunities. With that in mind, I’m not really practiced in this sort of thing, so hopefully it was believable. 
> 
> Poor Hikaru, he never had a chance. He’s like Hojo in my mind. For those worried about him, I assure you he found a very nice partner and they settled down together and had a quiet, peaceful life. Rin and Sesshomaru’s lives are neither quiet nor peaceful, but no less happy. :)
> 
> Edit: incaseyouart on tumblr made some beautiful fanart for the last part of this chapter! It's amazing and you should check it out right this very moment. You'll be happy you did: http://incaseyouart.tumblr.com/post/126175516196/sadladybug-incaseyouart-little


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